Awakening
by White As Snow
Summary: After Morgana cruelly suffers at Uther's hand for revealing she is a seer, a chain of events is set in motion that will bring about the destruction of Camelot. Unknowingly, Morgana may bring about the demise of both Pendragons...
1. Chapter 1

_Hurtling down from the dark skies and destroying Camelot were balls of flame, conjured up from seemingly nowhere. They came quickly, one after the other, as the villagers ran for cover; the sky was a layer of sooty grey and darkened the streets. Three figures stood there on the balcony of the castle, watching the once mighty kingdom being brought to its knees, helpless before the power of the magical attacks. She recognized the first figure as Uther Pendragon and the two adjacent figures as Arthur and Merlin. She wanted to cry out to them, as they looked upwards and saw a glowing orange sphere of flame bearing down on them, but she couldn't speak, she was mute. She looked down; her hands were nearly transparent. She was more spirit than human. _

_And completely helpless as she watched her two friends about to meet their doom._

Morgana sat up straight in her bed, clenching her teeth, as silent as she was in the dream. She realised this and unclenched her mouth, breathing in, attempting to soothe herself as she was trembling violently. She coughed and spluttered into her pillow, hoping Gwen would not hear. Attempting to shake the images of her friends and home being destroyed so violently, Morgana walked unsteadily to her window, praying that she would see what she always saw.

The streets were relatively busy, as they always were in the morning. Behind the clouds, the sun could be faintly seen. Villagers strolled through the streets, peddling their wares, heading towards the markets; children were already out and about.

She became physically calm, but inside, Morgana was unable to forget the dream. If that was all it was. Always, Morgana had suspected that she was a seer, someone who dreamt the future. But she had never confided in Gaius, because he was too close to the King, and she had no wish to die like the others accused of sorcery. Perhaps he knew something; he had treated her his whole life.

Ever since that woman Sophia had come to Camelot, her sights set on Arthur, she had been sure of her talents. How else could she have seen her the day before the witch arrived in Camelot?

But Uther would most likely not see it as a _talent_, more of a curse. And then she would be burnt like everyone else in the Great Purge, tied to a bundle of sticks and being set alight to "purge" the evil from the kingdom.

But this was a different situation! All of Camelot was at risk. There were people she could not stand to lose. Didn't she have a duty to warn Uther?

Pulling on her dressing gown, she ran past a startled Gwen who was carrying a tray with Morgana's breakfast on it. Gwen swiftly placed the tray down on a nearby table and took hold of her arm.

"Where are you going, my lady?" she asked, confused. Gwen looked over Morgana and noted the tell-tale signs that she had had another one of her dreams. "Are you alright?"

Looking at Gwen's caring face, she thought,_ is this someone worth exposing my secret for_?

"Gwen," she started, nervously. "I need to speak to Uther."

"Barefoot and in your night garments?" Gwen raised an eyebrow at her choice of attire.

"Actually, it's-"

"Whatever it is, you should eat and be presentable first, my lady. Surely it can wait." Gwen led her away from the door, and towards her dressing room.

Morgana shook her head, suddenly feeling dazed. She was silent as Gwen helped her into her favourite green dress, and arranged her hair into its usual style. Gwen was staring at her worriedly as she watched Morgana push spoonfuls of breakfast into her mouth without really looking at what she was eating, and then observed other things about her that just didn't seem right.

She was pale, especially her cheeks, which were normally a healthy red. Dark circles that she had not noticed before, a sure sign of nightmares. Why hadn't she noticed? And why were her hands shaking? Gwen felt an overwhelming urge to ask what was the matter, but she doubted Morgana would tell her even if she did ask. Sometimes her mistress and friend was quite secretive. But what could she do but wait?

Picking up the plates, Gwen said, "I'm just heading to the kitchen then, to wash these. I'll be back in a minute…will you be alright?"

Looking up, Gwen could she was most definitely _not_ alright, but when Morgana nodded, all she could do was just return quickly. She hurried out of the room, never having been in quite a rush to wash some dishes before.

"Ten…nine…eight…" Morgana counted down the seconds when Gwen left.

"Zero."

She picked up her skirts that were brushing the floor and slowing her down as she ran down the corridors, wincing everytime she stumbled into someone and they dropped what they were holding or tumbled into door frames, exclaiming her name.

"Morgana?"

"Lady Morgana…!"

"Mistress?"

"My Lady?!"

Mentally she promised to go back and help those people as soon as she delivered the message. Placing both palms on the dark brown doors, she pushed them back to reveal Uther eating alone at his dining table. He seemed quite surprised to see her and wiped his mouth with a napkin before addressing her.

"Morgana, I thought you were going out riding today with the Lady of-" She cut him off, noting that she had forgotten about this plan for today.

"Camelot is in danger," she blurted out, watching his face change from neutral to disbelieving. "We're in danger."

**Reviews if you liked it, or are interested in where this is heading? (:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. –sniff–**

**I just wanted to say, that the timeline for this story features everything that that happened in the Merlin series up until episode 11 (The Witch's Quickening) but not the Fires of Idrisholas. Also, no one has met Morgause. **

**Quote from Morgana is from 'The Witch's Quickening'.**

* * *

Uther appeared stunned only for a few seconds, during which the knot in Morgana's stomach loosened for having warned him, and she waited for him to begin to take appropriate action: call the guards, alert the knights, tell the people. Instead he began to laugh, and she felt as though she was a young child who no one took seriously. It was like a slap to the face.

"This is no laughing matter," she hissed, feeling the knot retighten. "This kingdom is going to hell and we're all going to go with it!"

Shaking his head, he said condescendingly, "Morgana, I appreciate you trying to protect the kingdom, but that is what the Knights of Camelot are trained to do. I am sure that if there was any imminent danger, then they would be the first to know, and I would be alerted within seconds. As I have heard no such news, you would be best to calm down."

"No one else could possibly know!" she yelled. "Even you couldn't know. We are _going_ to be attacked."

"Oh, really? And makes you so sure about that? Calm down, Morgana," he snapped, noting her flustered appearance, and tears, of all things, forming in her eyes.

"I'm not going to disclose my sources."

"Then how can I take anything you say seriously? Return to your bedchambers, you are obviously ill. I'll arrange for some guards to escort you to your room; your maidservant will attend to you."

Morgana felt her frustration mounting. "I'm not ill! Why won't you listen to me? We're all in _danger_. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Why don't you care about your kingdom!"

Uther seemed to be growing as angry as Morgana. "How dare you say such a thing! I care about this kingdom, but not when the danger isn't real."

She shook angrily, and then, in a quieter tone said, "You want to know how I know?" When he did not say anything she spat, "Because I am a seer."

Almost immediately she slightly regretted her words. Now he knew. Her biggest secret was out on the table, and if he reacted badly, what could she say? _I'm not really a seer, I was jesting with you. What a funny joke. _No, she was in it deep now. She could only hope that his old hatred and prejudices would not surface at this moment, not when she needed him to realise the harm that could befall all the people of the kingdom. Morgana recalled the images:

_Flames licking away the trees, houses, plants, people, leaving only a black burnt surface…_

Meanwhile Uther did a double take and seemed to choke. "What!"

"It's true. I have been a seer my whole life, and whatever I see _will come true_. I saw your kingdom, and there were flames in the sky bearing down on everyone, and you were-"

She knew her message had not gotten though when Uther thundered, "You have been a seer this whole time and did not tell me? You have betrayed me, Morgana! You are a _sorceress_, and for all these years, I housed you inside this castle unaware of the threat you are to my kingdom. I will not be insulted like this."

"I am not the threat. Your ignorance will destroy this kingdom and everyone you love if you don't _listen_ to me." Morgana grew desperate, spreading out her hands in front of her, pleading to him to listen.

He struggled for a moment, taking in this new information. But then his face grew stony, and absolute. "Guards!"

Two men, who Morgana had spoken to in the halls just the other day, gripped her arms and she pushed against them uselessly, unable to escape their grip.

"Take her to the dungeons. Allow no one to see her, especially not my son or her handmaid." They nodded comprehendingly and then, marched her down to the dungeons. She felt the energy drain out of her legs and they were forced to support her as they strode down the corridors. All eyes were on her, disbelieving. Morgana thought she heard someone whisper, _'but isn't that the King's Ward?'_

Treating her with none of the respect she had been accustomed to receiving from them, the two guards gave her a rough shove into the dank cell and locked the door. It echoed ominously in the small space. She rubbed her arms, were sore and would definitely develop bruises from being handled so violently, though she should have seen this coming. _I was so stupid, coming to Uther for help_, Morgana mentally reprimanded herself._ Had I been thinking clearly, I would have known he'd treat me with the same contempt for sorcerers that's been festering away in his black heart since before I was born_.

Observing her surroundings, the new prisoner grimaced in distaste at the cell. She had a newfound pity for those sentenced to serve a life sentence here, in these _pits_. Filthy straw lined the cold stone floor, which couldn't have been comfortable to even sit on, let alone sleep. The walls were bare and there were no windows through which sunlight or fresh air could filter in. It was vile, the pungent smells lingering in the stale air. Morgana leaned down to the hem of her dress, gripped it tight, and then ripped off a square to hold over her mouth and nose. The dress was ruined now, but at least the smell was somewhat less…overbearing. At least no one would see her.

Unless Arthur came to visit. Morgana panicked. What would she say to him when he came? What would _he _say to _her_? Again she regretted carelessly revealing her secret.

Here she could help no one, until Uther let her out. When would he let her out?

A hoarse voice broke the silence.

"Um, excuse me for speaking so frankly, milady, but are you the Lady Morgana?" came a voice from the cell opposite her. Morgana was startled that he could make out anything in the terrible light; she did not realise she was not alone.

"Yes," she called out, knowing he would not be the first one to be surprised that the _King's Ward_ was in prison, by order of the King himself.

Her neighbour swore, but then chuckled for some strange reason. "If you don't mind me asking, milady, what're you in," he gestured to his cell, "this for?"

She swallowed. Everyone was going to find out eventually. "I've offended the _mighty_ Uther Pendragon," she said contemptuously, turning the word 'Uther Pendragon' into an insult.

"Go on," the other prisoner encouraged, curious.

"I'm a seer." Seeing that he didn't understand, she added, "I have the gift of prophecy. I can see the future and it comes to me in my dreams. It's like-"

"Magic," completed the man. "Well…good on you. This'll be a good kick up the backside for him."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at it this way: the King's Ward has been a…_seer_ all this time under his fat nose. That's gotta wound his pride, at least a little bit. Uther can't see magic even if it slapped him in the face," he said gleefully.

Morgana smiled. She had tried to bury her hatred for the King for a while because the last time her anger had surfaced, she had been involved in a plot to kill him. A plot which nearly succeeded but was foiled by one person: herself. What an awful time to have felt pity for him; if it weren't for her 'lapse in judgement', Uther would have been dead and rotting in a grave while maggots buried into his flesh. That thought brought her happiness, but it also made her feel cold. She knew now, if presented with the same situation, she would _not_ have stood between Uther and the assassin.

Turning her attention back to her only companion, she asked, "So you know who I am; the Lady Morgana. But who are you?"

"Oh. I'm Owain." Owain put his arm through the bars like he was going to shake her hand, but he didn't even cover half the space between them. "I've served five of my seven years."

"Seven!" she cried, dismayed.

"Stole something from the palace treasury," he remarked, all too cheerful for what he was describing. "They was going to chop my hand off, but I begged to keep my hands. Without 'em, I can't make a living, see. So they chucked me in prison."

Morgana because quiet. If they would put thieves in the dungeons for seven years, what would they do to sorcerers? Uther had decreed the death penalty, but surely he would break his promise to her father. She remembered what he had said to her when she rescued the Druid boy.

_I will break that promise without a second thought._

* * *

Uther sat in his throne room, mulling over the events of the day with a glass of mead in his hand. He did not normally drink it; he preferred to stick with a hearty mug of ale, but the events of the day had drained him. Soon, people would begin demanding to know where Morgana was.

Morgana.

She had caused more problems than she had been worth keeping around. He did it mainly out of guilt, in the beginning. It was his fault that she was orphaned. But during her childhood, he had come to genuinely care for the child, and often thought of her as Arthur's sister. But she had changed as she grew into a woman, her head filled with strange ideas, even questioning _his_ judgement, the way he ruled _his_ kingdom! Then she had betrayed him by harbouring the Druid boy, and he knew she helped him escape from Camelot and back to his own people to continue conspiring against him.

After that betrayal, she had again crossed him by assisting that magician Alvarr to escape Camelot. He could not prove it, but he was sure that she had done it. Their conversation on that day had taken a turn for the worst.

"_You're an arrogant fool! You are deaf and blind to the very needs of the people you professed to serve and protect! People will tolerate it no longer!_

_They're rising up against you._

_From this day forward, I do not know you. From this day forward, I disown you._

_You Uther…you will go to hell."_

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts.

It was his son, Arthur.

"Father, I've heard rumours that you've thrown Morgana in the dungeons!" he said incredulously. Uther stared back coldly at his son. He would not be turned from his path, not now.

"Who informed you of this?" he asked casually, taking a drink from his glass.

"Everyone is talking about this! But they aren't letting me down in the dungeons to see her. If she's even in there."

"The rumours are true."

Arthur blanched. "You cannot throw someone in the dungeons everytime they offend you, Father. This is insane; what will the people think, what will they say about you? Think about your reputation."

Uther saw that his son did not fully hear the news. "You think I am so unjust to throw my own Ward in the dungeons to protect my pride!" He got up from his throne and stood looking down on Arthur on the marble floor.

"Morgana has committed treason. She has been living inside the safety of Camelot all her life, never revealing the risk she posed to us as a _sorceress_!"

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Morgana is no sorceress."

"She has admitted it herself, and if Gaius' records are anything to go by, she's been receiving dreams of the future all these years. She masked them as 'nightmares'."

Arthur's mind was reeling. He'd never suspected Morgana of being anything…different. She'd always be the same girl he grew up with, played with. They had pretend-sparred with each other for God's sake. How could his father be so callous and cruel, and throw her in prison for being a seer?

"Well," he asked, "when are you going to let her out?"

Uther's eyebrows shot up. He had not thought about what to do with the girl, he had been so fixed upon her betrayal. "There is but one sentence in Camelot for sorcerers and those who practice magic. She has left me no choice," he mumbled.

"You cannot do this!"

A sudden surge of anger rushed through Uther. Magic had taken his wife Ygraine, magic had destroyed his Ward, and magic was turning his son against him. "I can do this and I will. Magic is a poison, it is a disease. Have you not seen what it has done to this kingdom? Do you not notice that we are constantly threatened by it?"

"You don't believe that Morgana caused all those disturbances."

"For all I know she could have." Uther met Arthur's imploring gaze with a firm one of his own. "This kingdom is everything to me; I will not see it destroyed by magic."

Arthur backed down. "You're right. This kingdom _is_ everything to you. But you don't care about the people in it." With that he walked out of the room and slammed the door, leaving Uther alone again.

* * *

**Thankyou to all who reviewed in the last chapter, it just showed me that I am going in the right direction. Especially FireChildSlytherin5 for her awesome tips and encouragement, and Chaney and Terapsina for asking about whether it would become Merlin/Morgana. ;D We shall have to wait and see, won't we? I'm pretty sure I replied to all the reviews, so sorry if I accidentally skipped you. (: **

**Next chapter, Uther will announce what's going to happen to Morgana. D: Hopefully the chapters will get longer from here. This one is two thousand words-ish?**


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin's hand was becoming sore very quickly after spending an everlasting amount of time grinding some pea-green seeds in the mortar for Gaius. Apparently, if they were infused in some tea, they would lessen muscle pains. He would be needing it after this. _How can such small seeds be so difficult to crush?_ he asked himself tiredly, thinking of the long list of chores that Arthur had assigned him. Polish his boots, wash his clothes, tidy his bedroom, and he hadn't even seen to running a bath for him. How could they expect him to get everything done when _everyone _needed something?

Running a hand through his hair, he said to himself, "It'll have to be magic then." At that moment, Gaius walked in. Merlin dropped the pestle he was using to squash the seeds and laughed nervously.

"You know, I was joking, right Gaius?" Gaius sat down abruptly in a chair, looking weary, not taking notice of him. He rested his head in his hands.

Merlin, disturbed by this mood Gaius was in, jumped up and made him a drink that Gaius often prepared after Merlin was hit particularly hard in the head by an object while he was in the stocks. It had good reviving qualities. At least Gaius said it did.

He placed it carefully on the table, and Gaius reached over for it, tipping over several jars of indigo powders and a specimen jar. Luckily, whatever was inside it was dead. After taking a long sip, Gaius placed the mug down. "Thankyou, Merlin."

"Gaius, what's happened? Did something happen to Arthur or…" Hundreds of scenarios raced through his mind; the King had died, Arthur was wounded while hunting, Camelot was under attack, his mother's village had been destroyed.

Despondently, his mentor and friend looked at him. "Merlin, those many times I warned you to keep your magic secret were not a joke. If Uther discovers your secret there is no question as to whether he will do to you what he will do to Morgana."

"Morgana!" Merlin's heart began to race. "What- he knows?"

"How Uther came upon her secret, I do not know. He has thrown her into the dungeons to await further sentence but I am sure that the fact that she is his Ward will not sway him to a more merciful sentence."

The words that Merlin wanted to say seemed to have become lodged in his throat. "What do you mean," he quavered.

Gaius paused and then stared at the wooden floorboards, avoiding looking Merlin in the eye. "He will sentence her as he would any practiser of magic. He will sentence her to death."

Merlin leaped to his feet, slamming his palms down on the table, knocking more jars over. Green dust spilled over his hands, but he ignored it. "He cannot do that! She's done no evil, nothing wrong with her gift," he shouted. "Morgana _cannot die_. Why didn't you say anything to him?"

"What could I have said, Merlin? I am merely the court's physician; my words have no standing whatsoever with Uther."

"This is it then. We're just going to sit back and allow another person to be unfairly punished under Uther's tyranny," Merlin concluded, more disgusted with his helplessness than by the king of Camelot.

Gaius appeared tired again. "This is hard for you to accept Merlin, I can see that-"

"You're right it's hard for me to accept! I have _magic_, Gaius. What is my power good for if not to save the people I love. This isn't my destiny, to sit back and do nothing. It's not me."

Gaius placed and hand on Merlin's shoulder, and motioned for him to sit down, which he reluctantly did. "Please listen to me Merlin," he spoke softly. "Before you arrived in Camelot, there was a time no one likes to speak of, called the Great Purge. You have probably heard of it, but allow me to explain. Uther lost his wife Ygraine because he was so desperate to have a son that he did not care for the balance of the world, or that to bring a life into the world, one must be taken out. He blamed his ignorance on magic, and lined up the magicians, sorcerers, Dragonlords, seers, anyone that had anything to do with magic. Then, one by one, they were burned."

Merlin felt a shudder run down his spine, at the thought of people _just like him_, being executed because of their magic.

Gaius continued. "Many of my friends died that day. Some have called me a traitor, and a coward, for just standing by and 'doing nothing'. But in the end, there would have been little I could do that would have made a difference without getting myself executed as well. And then, what who would have got you out of all the messes you make here in Camelot?" Gaius smiled grimly.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Merlin, is that there are some times when as much as you think you can help, it is better not to get involved. How will you fulfil your destiny if you are caught trying to break Morgana out of prison, or reveal _your_ secret? I am also finding this difficult, Merlin. I knew Morgana since she was a young child. But there is nothing we can do."

Leaving Merlin to collect his thoughts, Gaius gave him a half-hearted pat on the back, for he knew that Merlin would most likely understand the message of his little speech later. All would happen in time.

"It does feel like the world has stopped, but everything else is moving. I'm sure Arthur would still appreciate his chores being done at least. Even I have work to do. These remedies won't make themselves."

Gaius moved to continue crushing the seeds, allowing the steady pounding rhythm to draw his thoughts elsewhere. Meanwhile, Merlin was at a loss for words, thoughts, feelings, anything. His mind just continuously rejected the idea that another one of his friends was going to die. _First Will, now Morgana_, he reflected. _I refuse to accept this. There _has_ to be a way_.

Arthur poked his head around the door. In a heavily subdued voice, he asked, "Merlin. I hope you've polished my boots, I need them. Right this moment." From the tone of his voice, he had heard the news.

Merlin tried to speak. "Just a moment, Arthur." He hurried to his room, where he found Arthur's boots, as dirty as the time they had been dumped in his room. Merlin muttered a quick spell and in a few seconds they were clean. He carried them to the prince and looked into his face. Arthur wasn't the easiest of people to read, but Merlin had come to know whether he was upset or not, and this time Arthur was the former.

"What's the hurry?" Merlin inquired, and Arthur grimaced.

"My father is going to pass a sentence on Morgana and half the kingdom seems to have turned up," he said with distaste. Merlin could feel his stomach drop like a stone inside his body. He hadn't even seen Morgana, and Uther was already passing judgement?

"Arthur. Have- have you seen her since yesterday?"

"My father isn't letting anyone see her. He won't see reason, I promise I tried Merlin," Arthur answered the unspoken question Merlin had been thinking about while he pulled his boots on. "Let's go."

They walked together in complete silence. Merlin wanted to find something appropriately comforting to say to the Crown Prince but all he could really focus on was Morgana. He was determined that his last words to her would not be _'Well, goodnight' _followed by a ridiculous grin and wave.

* * *

Morgana was sitting at last in the only mud-free corner of the cell that she had found after several places where she sat had stained her gown. There wasn't enough light that she could see properly, but her eyes had grown a little accustomed to the darkness.

Thinking about what might happen to her hurt too much, so instead she fantasised ways of bringing Uther's downfall. Or at the very least, his death. _No one will mourn his passing_, she thought. _No one will attend his funeral except to dance on his grave. I want the first dance_. That thought brought a smile to her face. Not a genuine, happy one, but it would have to do.

Since there was minimal activity down in the dungeons, it was relatively simple to hear things. Owain had taught her how to distinguish between the footsteps of a guard, soldier, noble and maid. _He has a keen ear for these things_, Morgana noted. This person had to be a guard. Sure enough, within seconds, not one, but four guards stood before her cell.

"I'm going to unlock this door. No funny business, mind you," one of them warned her as he pulled out a metal key from his pocket. They all appeared cautious, as though they believed she could actually do harm to them. Maybe she could, if she had a sword in her hand and wasn't encumbered by her dress. But she didn't even have a pointy stick, let alone a lethal weapon.

The moment the door opened, she was put in shackles and two of them kept a tight grip on her shoulders, in case she should try to flee. As they tramped out of the dungeons, Morgana could not help but ask, "Where are you gentlemen taking me?"

"To your sentencing."

* * *

The throne room was crowded, Arthur had not been exaggerating. It seemed as though all of Camelot's nobility had arrived to witness the king pass judgement on Morgana, who was not yet present. If anyone expected to see weeping women or the like, they would have been sorely disappointed. Clearly Uther had instilled the idea in them that Morgana was a dangerous force.

Arthur strode through the empty space left by the concourse; they parted as he moved through them. His facial expression gave away nothing. The prince stood near the front, where he normally would have stood with Morgana. Arthur realised this and melted into the crowd as Merlin tried to follow. Neither acknowledged the king. Uther noticed this and scowled, opening his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it and shut it again. Footsteps were heard in the hallway and the door creaked open to reveal Morgana with four guards around her to escort the prisoner. She definitely looked the part, with shackled around her wrists.

Shocked murmuring filled the room. Merlin was upset by her dishevelled appearance. Obviously she had been treated badly: there was a pattern of bruises down her arms and her skirt was streaked with mud as well as ripped at the hem. But at least she was alive. Merlin couldn't imagine Uther could be _this_ callous. He tried to catch her eye, but she had only eyes for Uther, and she wasn't gazing at him with happiness.

The guards pushed her from her standing position, so that she kneeled before Uther, who did not approach her. He stood on the raised floorboards so that he could look down on her from a slight height, so that no one would forget who wielded the most power in this room.

Uther cleared his through at everyone ceased talking at once. "Morgana. You stand before this court guilty of the crime of sorcery, by your own admission. Do you deny this?" he asked, daring her to disagree.

Morgana raised her chin proudly. "I do not deny it," she confirmed. "I am a seer."

Uther frowned at her remorseless tone. "The laws of Camelot do not make any allowances for those accused of sorcery. There is but one sentence I can deliver, and that is death."

"The 'law' does not sentence me and neither does Camelot. You condemn me Uther Pendragon, and you kill me. My blood is forever on your hands. An eternity in hell should wash it right off," she laughed derisively.

"Silence!" he snarled. "My promises to your father stop me from harming you while you are my Ward, so I have no choice but to disown you. From this moment hence, you are no longer my Ward. I no longer know you." Many nobles in the room gasped.

"I disowned you a long time before this, _my lord_," mocked Morgana. "This is indeed a cause for celebration."

"Your insults mean nothing to me. You will burn at the stake at midday tomorrow. I have rid this kingdom of another sorcerer."

"You _have_ rid this kingdom? You're acting as though I am already a pile of ashes."

"You will hold your tongue! This matter is finished!" Uther exploded.

"You are finished, Uther Pendragon. Your reign is near its end, I have foreseen it so enjoy your precious days on the throne. This land grows weak with you at its head, you leech off it and think that you are making Camelot stronger. Camelot is _weak_," she spat.

"ENOUGH! Guards, get her out of my sight."

"_You are finished_!" screamed Morgana as the same four guards dragged her out. She turned her head to Merlin and Arthur, and mouthed '_goodbye_' as she finally dissolved into tears. Merlin felt his heart wrench as they led her to the dungeons where she would spend her final night in Camelot.

* * *

**So, did you like the drama in this chapter? ;D I do love drama. Uther's being a real pig. **

**Thanks a million to GildedDragonfly for your awesome encouragement and messages. (: Go check out GildedDragonfly's and Terapsina's Merlin fics, I really love them. **

**Hit that review button people, you know I love hearing what you have to say. (:**


	4. Chapter 4

The audience shuffled out of the room with satisfied expressions. They trusted their King to do the right thing, though they didn't fully comprehend how often that King left them in the dark. He had told Arthur many times, 'there's no need to create panic amongst the people.' Arthur had always secretly thought this was just another way of lying, but how could he oppose his distant father who forwent this role to be a king?

Arthur couldn't feel Merlin's hand on his shoulder. He couldn't feel anything except a boiling, sick fury in the pit of his stomach, and heat in his arms and face. Still staring at the floor, he muttered, "You can go, Merlin." The warmth on his shoulder moved away and the room echoed with Merlin's trudging footsteps. He turned to look at his father, who did not seem to realise that his son was still in the room. What he saw disconcerted him.

_I don't know this man,_ he finally understood. _I have never understood him, never agreed with him. _

Uther caught sight of something in his peripheral vision. He noticed it was Arthur. "Arthur. What do you want?"

It was the offhand way that he said this that broke the seal Arthur was keeping over the words he wanted to say to the King. They poured out of his mouth, and the sudden hatred he felt for his father intensified. "How can you address me so casually when you've sentenced your daughter to death?!"

"She is not my daughter, she was my Ward."

"It's the _same damn thing_!"

"I am your King and father, you will show me some respect," snarled Uther.

"I will not respect a murderer." Not one part of Arthur doubted what he had just said.

"She is a sorcerer, a witch! Would you have her wander the kingdom and bring it to the ground?"

Arthur felt as through he had been seeing a distorted version of Uther Pendragon his whole life. Now he saw the paranoia, the prejudice, the _hate_ that had been destroying his father since his mother had died. _Since my mother died…_Arthur's fury burned hotter inside him, as though someone was fanning the flames of a very tangible fire. "You lied to me, didn't you?" he choked.

"What?" asked Uther, thrown off by this random accusation.

"There is only one way that you could have hated magic so much. It wouldn't make sense any other way!"

"I don't understand."

Arthur drew out each word and watched Uther's reaction. "Morgause was telling me the truth, it was you." Seeing that his father was on the verge of denying it, he stopped him. "No! Just be quiet, I don't want to hear more of your lies. You are nothing but a hypocrite and a liar!" he shouted, using the exact same words he had used upon first discovering the circumstances of his birth.

"Arthur, I swore to you that Ygraine's death was not my fault," Uther said desperately.

"Then you lied, didn't you. Don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes, everytime someone mentions her, you flinch and look guilty. Because you were hiding something, because you _know_ what you've done is wrong. You've punished hundreds of others rather than punish yourself. You think you're better than the rest of us, don't you?"

"I am the King!"

"So you keep saying. But what does that really mean, Uther?" he asked mockingly, using his father's first name for the first time in his life. "It means you think that just because you were born into this family means that you don't need to prove your courage, your honour. You don't show mercy and you're unjust. You're a murderer."

Nothing he would say would put Arthur at ease or prove his innocence. This was it: he could lie and continue to deny everything no matter what Arthur thought. He chose the alternative. "I begged Nimueh's help for the sake of this kingdom. Camelot will not endure if there is not a ruler to govern it-"

He was interrupted by Arthur. "You are not the ruler. A ruler cares for his people, magic or no. When I ascend to the throne, I will do that. You are not the ruler. You are a tyrant."

Every word his son spat at him was like a slap in the face. He was tired, and he had nothing to hide behind. "Arthur, please listen…"

"You disgust me. I'm ashamed that people will know I am your son. And I'm sorry Morgana has to die for your pride!" Arthur snarled. He then bowed to him in a way that signified everything but respect, and then walked out. The guards peered in to check that their king was not in any danger, though the only person who was a danger to Uther Pendragon- was himself.

* * *

Arthur stormed into his chambers and startled Merlin who was holding a sheet and staring blankly at the mattress. His thoughts were evidently elsewhere. "Just don't worry about it, Merlin."

"Alright," Merlin mumbled in a somewhat raspy voice. Arthur, frowning, studied Merlin's face; there was the subtlest evidence that he had been crying, or at least shed a tear or two. His manservant hastily turned his face away and coughed to clear his throat several times. "Uh, I'm not crying, by the way," Merlin said defensively.

"Of course you aren't. Just as long as you don't need a hug or anything…" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I don't."

"Right."

They remained like that for a while, in silence. Merlin's question hung unspoken in the air between them: what had happened between Arthur and his father after Morgana's sentencing. Arthur simply felt exhausted after it like he had emptied himself of all his emotions there. Then Merlin shifted and sat down next to Arthur and asked him.

"So…?" His face became a little hopeful.

"No, he's not letting Morgana off," Arthur stated flatly. Merlin turned his face towards the ground. "I wish he was. I found out Morgause was telling the truth. So basically, that means hundreds of people have died thanks to my father's hatred of magic, which is also his fault. He killed my mother."

"That's what you talked about?"

"I also called him a hypocrite, a liar and a tyrant."

Merlin's jaw dropped. "How come _I _get put in the stocks for doing that kind of thing and _you_ get off without a slip on the wrist?"

Arthur smirked and said, "Probably has something to do with the dodgy way you look, Merlin."

"Shut up. What else happened? You didn't try to duel him to the death again, did you?"

This remark made Arthur sober up. "No. Do you think if he was dead, then Morgana wouldn't be executed?"

"Probably not. Though it's worth a try."

"Merlin," Arthur said, slightly spooked. "I was kidding. I'm not ready to run this kingdom."

"Oh, right. So, then you left?"

"Yeah. Right after I lectured him on my pro-magic views." Arthur sighed and shrugged.

Merlin chose his next sentence carefully. "Pro-magic views? So, does that mean that you don't care about who's magic and who isn't anymore?"

"Pretty much. I mean, if Morgana has been a seer all these years and she hasn't done a single wrong thing, then who am I to say that all sorcerers are evil? That would be a lie. I know the world isn't split into black and white. There's some good people in it too. Look at my father. He's the King of Camelot and he's still completely deranged. I don't think he's good for this kingdom."

_That means this is my moment. I shouldn't keep the magic secret any longer. I'll tell him_, Merlin decided.

"Arthur," he said aloud. "There's something you need to know. I'm-"

The doors slipped open a crack. "Your Highness, Merlin, if you should wish to see the Lady Morgana then this is the time to do so."

Merlin felt Arthur tug on his sleeve. "Come on, let's go."

Gaius gestured for them to be quiet and motioned that they should follow him. "Your father has retired to his chambers, Arthur. He won't notice right now. I thought you might want to see her, before…" Gaius let the words trail off uneasily.

"She's not hurt, is she?" Arthur whispered back, worried. He didn't like imagining the bad treatment she would receive as a prisoner. She was the Ward for God's sake, she deserved better.

"I'm afraid she's been rather roughly handled by the guards and is quite shaken up. Bruises and the like."

The group became quiet, and as they approached the guards, they were stopped. "Sorry your Highness," they apologised. "But I'm afraid we can't let you through."

"I think you'll find you can." Arthur stared them down.

"Well, err," one of the guards shifted uneasily. "I guess we could let you through, Sire. But definitely not the physician or the servant boy."

"You'll find that I need both of them to accompany me."

Merlin had an idea. "Actually, you'll have to make do with Gaius, I have to go." And with that Merlin ran back up the stairs and into the corridor. He would go and bring Gwen to Morgana! He checked for her in Morgana's chambers, the kitchens, the place where the servants would do the washing and laundry, Gaius' workroom and even her home but it was devoid of anyone. Merlin let out an exasperated sigh, when he caught a glimpse of the brightest cherry red cloak, a colour that was almost inappropriate for the mood of the whole day. But he knew only one person who owned a pretty cloak and hood like that and wore it on a regular basis.

The girl in question was buying flowers at a market stall. _Why are you buying flowers?_ Merlin asked her mentally. "Gwen," he called out tentatively.

Gwen turned around with a cheerful bouquet in her hands. Her eyes were swollen and still watery. She wiped them, embarrassed, with the heel of her palm. "Merlin." She walked towards him shakily. "Have you heard…"

"Yeah."

"It's so awful, I mean, I don't understand why he's doing this!" Fresh tears slipped down her face. "Oh, Merlin, you don't understand what it's like for me, she wasn't just my mistress she was my best friend and now that Father's gone I haven't got anyone to look after me-"

He took one of her hands, and said comfortingly, "I do know what it's like. I know exactly how much she meant to you…how much she _does _mean to you. She means a lot to all of us. Don't worry Gwen. Morgana hasn't been executed yet. We'll find a way to save her like we found a way to save you."

Gwen gulped. "But Merlin- I was innocent. I didn't poison the water, but I do think Morgana is a seer."

"Yes, but we can find a way to, I don't know, break her out or something. There's no way we can convince Uther, but there are other ways, I promise." Merlin met her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile though he didn't feel quite that way inside.

Gwen lowered her eyes and then asked, "We're just servants. We can't do anything special, and I just don't see how."

"But we'll get Arthur to help us. We're like an unstoppable team." Merlin tried again, this time a cheesy grin. Gwen's face relaxed a little.

"Speaking of Arthur, do you think that you could get him to give her these?" She held out the bouquet, explaining, "I thought she'd like something nice; I've been in the dungeons and they're completely foul, especially when she's used to better."

Merlin nodded and she let go of his hand so he could walk back to the castle. _I have little over twelve hours to find a way to break her out. I can't ask the Great Dragon…I guess it's time to go grovelling to Gaius then_, he thought with a sigh.

* * *

**_A/N: I apologise for the long wait. School has started and it's hectic. :D That and I've been spending a lot of time getting acquainted with Phantom of the Opera…again. Also, FF wasn't letting me update! D:_**


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin returned to the castle, slightly feeling the pressure of his promise to Gwen, but he was overcome by determination to follow that promise through. He had saved all of them before so it was nothing unusual. Gaius, when he had fallen and nearly crashed to the floor the first time they met and from Nimueh who was willing to take Gaius' life for his. Gwen, when they had wanted to burn her at the stake for supposedly poisoning the town's water supply. Both of the Pendragon's on _countless_ occasions. And how many times had he saved Camelot from some random monster or magical attack?

"Why does no one recognise my genius?" Merlin lamented aloud, as he tidied the workbench, waiting for Gaius to arrive rather impatiently. Tonight, of all nights, why did he have to stay out late distributing potions and unguents to his patients? Arthur couldn't have been gone visiting Morgana for so long, Uther would have noticed by now. Merlin let out a frustrated sigh. What could he even ask Gaius anyway? Gaius himself had told him the situation was hopeless: Morgana was much too public a figure; everyone would notice if Uther did not follow through on his punishment, and then the whispers would begin that the King favoured those close to him, that they could get away with anything without risk of punishment. Camelot would plunge into chaos.

_So that's it? Morgana _has_ to die. No, not while I can help it. Let me look at it from a different way: we can't get her off the hook, and we can't break her out because they'll pursue us no matter where we go. He'll hunt her down and anyone that helped her…so Arthur can't know. Then there has to be some way to make it _seem_ like she's been punished when it reality she isn't…that's it!_ Merlin excitedly ran over to the many bookshelves, an idea forming inside his head.

The book about magic was somewhere in here, but he couldn't remember where Gaius had hidden it last after the time the King had walked in on a surprise visit and actually stepped on it. The physician had nearly had a heart attack on the spot and after Uther had left, Gaius had given him a couple of whacks with the book.

When his fingers brushed over a book that didn't have the same feel as velvet or leather, which most of the books were bound in, Merlin knew he had found the right book. He pulled it out of the space and used his magic to lock the door; the lock slid into place with a _click_. Merlin dropped to the floor in a sitting position and began to flip through the pages with increasing speed, looking for something about illusions, anything. He was spurred on by the image of Morgana being burned, and this made him sweat with fear of what should happen if he failed.

The chapter titles did help him somewhat, though it tried his patience when they didn't match what he was searching for.

_Animals…no._

_Elements…no._

Morgana's life depended on this; there had to be one spell, just one!

* * *

Arthur peered through the bars of Morgana's cell with disgust, not for his sister but for the awful conditions that she was forced to endure. He hoped with all his heart that that was _water_ dripping down from the ceiling. The light was very dim, but he could make out a shape huddled by the furthest corner of the cell. "Morgana, it's me, Arthur."

"What a stupid thing to say," she croaked bitterly. "Even if I didn't know who it was I could tell it was Arthur Pendragon from the resemblance you have to your bastard father."

Mildly surprised, Arthur drew back, but then realised she was just talking out of spite. "He is a terrible person-"

"And an even worse excuse for a human being." Though he couldn't see her face, Arthur guessed she was wearing a vicious smile. "Arthur, Camelot is going to be destroyed at his hands. You have to stop him. You have to stop whatever is coming for this kingdom. I saw it."

"So you really are a seer. That's…strange. Strange, but not in a bad way." Arthur smiled himself. "I don't care about magic anymore. I will not turn into the prejudiced man my father has become; I want to be a just and fair king to everyone. Including those who have magic."

"It's a little late for me, don't you think?" she laughed spitefully. "I think…" Her words trailed off as her voice wavered and hitched. Arthur heard her gulp and he thought he heard her weeping. And how could he blame her? She was a beautiful young girl who was being sentenced for trying to save the land and people she loved. This brought back some of Arthur's fury. Where was the justness in this situation?

"Don't be like that Morgana. You've never given in, until now. Uther Pendragon has reduced you to a crying little girl?"

"Shut your mouth, Arthur," Morgana snapped, noting that he had used his father's first name in a spiteful way. It gave her a small amount of happiness. "You are not the one locked away in these filthy dungeons, with rats for company and a death sentence on _your head_!"

Arthur continued. "See? There's the old spirited Morgana."

There was silence for a while. Arthur did not interrupt whatever she was thinking. "Arthur…I have reconciled myself to my fate. You'll do great things for this kingdom, but it's not going to be while I'm around," she said sadly. Then her tone turned livid. "But be prepared to take the throne, because if I somehow get out of this impossible mess, your father is going to die my hand! Now GO."

"Morgana, I wanted to say-"

She was crying again, just when he thought her tears had subsided. He would never admit it to anyone, but she was bringing tears to his eyes too. "Just go Arthur, you'll see me tomorrow. Tell Gwen and Merlin that I love them…" Morgana took a steadying breath in. "And tell your damned father to go to hell!"

Arthur mumbled a goodbye and left her, not knowing if he would be able to even attend her execution. _I act as thought I am one of the bravest knights in Camelot, but I'm walking away from someone who won't see another sundown. You surely are the best among the men, for sure, Arthur_, he told himself sarcastically. But the sarcasm was better than admitting that the light was fine and he was blinking because he wanted to shed a few tears.

Morgana heard him walk away and placed her hand under a pile of straw where she had concealed a piece of charcoal. On her knees, she waddled over the wall and began to write something. She didn't want to perish without leaving a little something behind for people who felt as she did. When Arthur or someone came by, she'd make sure they would read it out to the people. Perhaps Uther himself would read it.

_How corrupt this Kingdom has become. If I had a couple of acres of land for every person that Uther Pendragon has unfairly executed, then I would own more land than he did. Of course, if I did own more than he did, then this would make me infinitely more powerful than he. If I were more powerful than he is, his head would be first on the executioner's block and not a tear would be shed. For who would shed a tear for the man who has murdered their husband, their wife, their children, their friends? Who would dare weep over the death of a bloodthirsty tyrant, who cares nothing for his people and grows fat by taxing peasants who already cannot get by, and then ignores their problems? _

_Among the first to rejoice are those who have the gift of magic. It is a beautiful gift that can tame monstrous creatures, reshape the world, foresee what is to come, make immovable things give way and transform the world, for the better. Uther Pendragon unfairly persecutes my kind. Before me, many have been sentenced to die for merely being born with magic, much like myself. There have been others, who learned and practised magic, who also died so that the King could be satisfied in his irrational lust for the blood of those who are magical. We do not practise evil, we do not kill. The only murderer among us is the corrupted King who sits on the throne, killer of the innocent. If only he was as quick to realise his own perverted nature as he is to accuse others._

_In death, I hope to achieve only one thing: to remove the veil from the eyes of people for them to see this bloated monster who is destroying the land from its very core, for them to hate and curse this parasite who cares nothing for the duties to his people that he was sworn to uphold._

_Yours sincerely, _

_Morgana, former Ward of Camelot. _

There were so many more insults to Uther that Morgana wished she could have worked into there but her hand was cramped and she curled into a foetal position to try to sleep. This was probably going to be the longest night of her life.

What were they losing with her death anyway? The pretty little doll Uther paraded out for the court, the living breathing show of his generosity and loyalty. She didn't have any of the privileges of being a Ward anymore though, and the promise he made to her father had also been broken. But her father was dead and she didn't have any relations who would mourn her death.

_But if I look at it anther way, I've got quite an assortment. I have the future King of Camelot and his manservant, and if Gwen and Arthur stop being so stupid and get married, I'll have the Queen of Camelot too to mourn at my funeral. If Uther grants me one…which he won't. _

Morgana sighed, remember a phrase she had often heard her father use.

_Silent as the grave…  
__________________________________________

Merlin was still looking through the chapters of the book when Gaius walked in. He was about to slam the fragile book under the table when he realised who it was. "Where's Arthur?"

"I left him down there with her. She's not really in any condition to be taking visitors," Gaius supposed.

"She's sick?"

"No," replied Gaius, sounding surprised, "but I would guess she's frightened and hurt." The physician then glanced downwards to see the book in Merlin's hands. "I thought I _told _you Merlin, there isn't any way you can save her! You know Uther will-"

"Hunt her down, yeah, I've thought about it alright? I know about the repercussions! I'm not stupid Gaius, and I know you think I am. I listened to your 'it's-useless-to-try' speech but now you have to listen to mine. If Uther thinks Morgana is gone forever, like dead, she'll be free won't she?"

Gaius appeared perplexed. "I don't see where you're going with this, Merlin."

"We need to make Uther think she's dead, but in a really public way. Then she can go wherever she likes under another name or a disguise and everything'll be fine."

"And how exactly do you plan to accomplish this without her _actually _dying, Merlin?" Gaius said sceptically.

Merlin turned back to the spell book, and said, "I'm still looking for a spell for illusions."

He felt a hand pat him on the back. "Then I wish you luck Merlin. I'm sorry that I don't have anything to contribute but I know no spells of this nature." Gaius paused. "If anyone can save Morgana, it is you."

"Thanks, Gaius." Merlin thanked him without looking up from the page. Every second was precious, because he had such a limited amount of time to find the right spell. Someone's life was at stake, and a knot had formed in his stomach. He knew that it would not unravel until he had seen Morgana standing without guards at her back or shackles on her wrists. Someone so kind and beautiful couldn't fade into darkness like this.

His eyes were becoming tired from trying to locate an illusion spell in the very fine print but he just continued telling himself the same thing:

_It's on the next page, it's on the next page. _

And each time, it wasn't.

* * *

**A/N: I thought I wrote this chapter a little quickly, but all the ideas were just pouring out of my head. That, and Lena encouraged me. :D**

**I'm so so happy with the reviews I'm getting, you guys are just so awesome to take your time to help me out with this verbose drama. And I forgot to say, thankyou to you alerts/favourites people, I really appreciate it. **


	6. Chapter 6

Before, the dawn in Camelot was always beautiful, or at least the thing that Uther admired most. The sun had yet to rise but it was not as dark as midnight. What was there not to like? It was relatively quiet, the streets were empty of people who could possibly be sorcerers, or assassins, or, heaven forbid, Druids. _Caution_ was what ran a country, not mercy. He could do away with justice and mercy and the land would still run smoothly, but without caution? Never.

He had not been able to sleep, so he had come to the window to observe the people building the pyre. It was most certainly not guilt that kept him awake, but his anger at magic. Whoever thought that sentencing his _old_ Ward to death would have doused his fiery rage of magic was wrong; if anything, it fuelled it. He was exercising caution, and making a wonderful example to the people: _no one _was exempt from the laws against magic. If Morgana thought she was, then she was in for a rude awakening. Uther laughed bitterly. Perhaps the girl thought she would be reprieved at the last moment. But this was no jest. Magic was not something to be laughed at; it was something to be stamped out of his kingdom.

Far from being complete, the pyre had only just started. How long ago had it been since someone faced a fate like this? He had built one for Morgana's maid when he suspected her, but his accusation was wrong. Uther did not remember if he even apologised or not. Not that it mattered; the girl was just a peasant. Peasants didn't receive apologies from nobility. The other sorcerers he had executed but death by fire was a particularly painful punishment that Morgana deserved, for lying to him and making a complete fool out of him at court. And practising magic.

Uther's eyes began to shut of their own accord. He snapped them back open, loath to fall asleep. If he slept, who knew what would happen? What if Morgana broke out of her prison and he was sound asleep? That could not, _would not_ happen.

Pulling on a rather large crimson robe, he marched out of his chambers to Gaius' workspace. He knew that there was a shelf that held an array of potions for sleeping problems, and potions that could keep you awake until your next birthday. Well, not _quite_ that long, but once when he had been planning for a battle and needed several days to coordinate his troops as well as formulate a strategy, he had taken an elixir Gaius had created that had kept him alert for the next three days.

He continued down his halls, not caring who he roused from their sleep, because he was, after all, the King. The floorboards creaked and made noises; the castle had belonged to a long line of Pendragons, and none of them had bothered to re-floor the castle. There was too much to be spent on the army, and keeping the kingdom at peace.

Uther hesitated at Gaius' door. After Uther had subjected Gaius to questioning from the Witchfinder, he feared that he had lost the physician's trust forever. Though it had all been the Witchfinder's fault, Gaius seemed to find Uther at fault. It wasn't his fault that he had been fooled by yet another sorcerer! Magic was to blame.

And here was the problem. He was always blamed for the problems magic caused. _If only everyone could see magic for the plague it is,_ he thought.

Shrugging, Uther pushed the door open and slowly walked inside. He made his way to the shelf among a sea of book piles, tables, chairs and containers. Didn't Arthur's manservant live here? He was pathetic at keeping things clean. Uther traced a finger over the table. When he lifted it up, it was coated in dust. He shuddered. At least the dust didn't end up in the remedies.

Suddenly, Uther was nearly bowled off his feet by a large warm object on the floor. On closer inspection, it was Arthur's manservant. _Speak of the devil, _Uther thought automatically. It was one of those silly things that Ygraine used to love to say, as well as _bless you _and _waste not, want not_.

Catching his breath, he studied the boy. What was his name, Merrick, Marvin, Marlin, Marian…Merlin! Merlin had proved to be most useful since the moment he had met him. He had jumped onto Arthur and pulled him to the ground, successfully pushing him from the path of a dagger that was aimed to kill. He'd saved Arthur and this made him not warm to him, exactly, because the boy was a peasant, but at least elevated him above other peasants.

Merlin was slumped over a book, which was open on a page. It was a quite large book but the print was small. He tried to take a closer look but the boy's neckerchief was in his way. He stepped over Merlin and located the appropriate potion. He downed it there and then, leaving the empty bottle on the tabletop so that Gaius could perhaps reuse it. Stepping back over Merlin, Uther left the room to watch the men continue building the pyre.

He remembered that Merlin had also been accused of witchcraft by the Witchfinder, and although Merlin had been the one that had revealed the Witchfinder's ruse, Uther had suspected him.

_It doesn't matter, _Uther decided._ The sorcerers, they all burn in the end. _

* * *

Merlin inhaled greedily after Uther left. He had fallen asleep over the magic book, but he never expected the King to come barging in and taking a remedy or something. When Uther had walked straight into Merlin, he had woken up and felt his heart jolt. He tried his best not to move or breathe, but the dust in the air made his nose tickle and he desperately wanted to rub his nose or sneeze. That and the pain in his thigh where the King had kicked him made his eyes water.

Actually, it was a stroke of luck that Uther had woken him, because he could now begin his preparations for saving Morgana. He'd stumbled across the spell on the final page of the book, when, in a drowsy stupor, he was so close to just slamming the book shut and giving up. But then he would never forgive himself if Morgana died began he was too _sleepy_. Now, his biggest problem was executing the plan without a hitch. The only person who knew about his magic, Gaius, would not be able to help him pull the plan off so Merlin would have to do it himself.

If he failed, it would be death for both of them.

Merlin revised the page and then hurried outside. Almost everyone else was in their chambers and so he could slip outside unnoticed. The atmosphere was filled with a quiet expectation. It was disturbing.

He headed out to the main courtyard where they were constructing the pyre, it was underway. The reality of the situation hit him again; there was limited time. Merlin turned his eyes away from the bundles that had only one purpose but to burn. Instead he turned into a little alley where they stacked the barrels and he grabbed one that was on the ground. Merlin nearly dropped it on his foot as he heard a voice from the shadows. "Morning, Merlin."

The figure emerged from the darkness. The very familiar figure draped one arm around Merlin's shoulder. "You couldn't sleep either," Arthur concluded.

"Uh, yeah," Merlin replied, grateful that Arthur had not asked him what he was doing down here. The less people that knew his plan the better. Then at least Uther couldn't accuse Arthur of treason, because this country needed a future King and Merlin didn't know what hideous punishment the King would create for his son. "I decided to come down here because I couldn't stop thinking about Morgana." Merlin winced as he remembered the now dead flowers resting on the bench which he had forgotten to give her. He made a mental promise to buy some new ones and present them to Morgana on Gwen's behalf if he didn't die today.

_Stop being so pessimistic, _Merlin reprimanded himself.

_It's not pessimism. It's wariness_, his more rational side replied.

"Neither could I. Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I'm like my father?"

Merlin met Arthur's eyes. Arthur's were angry and full of turmoil. "You're nothing like him! You're complete opposites. You're going to be the person that…makes Uther seem like a really bad person," Merlin finished lamely. He had been about to say '_returns magic to Camelot._'

'_Makes Uther seem like a really bad person'?_ _Well done, Merlin_, his cynical side said. He could almost hear the sarcastic applause.

"What I mean is that you're going to show him up in every aspect. The people will love you."

"Thanks, Merlin. Well, I'd best be getting to the castle for an early breakfast. Otherwise I might run into my father." Arthur's voice was layered with distaste.

"Uh, Arthur. You do know that I haven't made you anything."

"I figured. Don't worry about doing anything today, I don't think either of us will be up to anything today." Arthur grimaced and closed his eyes for three seconds. When he opened them, they were substantially brighter.

"You were always too manly to cry," joked Merlin weakly. He received a thump for going to the trouble of cheering Arthur up but he suspected that his joke had hit its mark. "Well, see you later." Arthur shook his head and wandered off to the palace kitchens; Merlin hoped he wouldn't go harassing the servants for ale or anything like that. In this state, he wasn't sure of what Arthur would do under the influence of a couple of mugs of ale, and Merlin needed this plan to run as smoothly as possible. But at the same time he wanted him to actually eat something. Guiltily, Merlin remembered that he hadn't made Arthur anything last night either. At this rate, Arthur would waste away.

Merlin returned to the task at hand: he lifted open the barrel and checked the contents. It was a greyish dust. Perfect. Not without effort, he rolled the barrel on its side as inaudibly as he could manage, after replacing the top. He began rolling it out into the centre of the courtyard, then to one of the walls enclosing it. When it was in place, he leant against it and fell asleep; he needed to rest for the upcoming challenge that was waiting.

* * *

Morgana was roused from her sleep by a hard kick to her stomach. She sat bolt upright in the filthy straw and terrible light, retching as her stomach fought to empty itself of the previous night's meagre dinner. Stale bread and a scrap of cheese. Better to die with that in her stomach than with nothing at all. Morgana got herself under control with a couple of deep breaths, a technique she had learned from Gaius but had always been too panicked to put into practice. Then, she tilted her head upwards to see her attacker. She would not be beaten into submission like a dog.

Another kick, this time aimed to her side made her double over in pain. The boots of the guards were _heavy_. Of course, Uther had probably instructed him to wear such footwear for the sole purpose of beating her. Morgana struggled to her feet and into a slightly hunched over standing position. "What do you want?" she asked, mustering as much of her dignity as possible. It was amazingly difficult to be dignified in chains and streaked with dirt and God knew what else that was on the floor.

"Are you ready to die, witch?" he taunted. "It's your special day." The guard forcefully shoved her out of the cell. Morgana swung her iron clad wrists towards his corpulent, sweaty face but he deflected the blow with one of his meaty paws. "Don't go trying anything, _my lady_," he warned. "Or you might not have two eyes to see your pyre being set alight."

"I'm a witch, aren't I? I could have you dead with a snap of my fingers!" Morgana drew herself up and tried her best to look as though she meant what she said, though she was trembling inside at the mention of fire.

"Just try it, princess. Want to see how quickly I can break your pretty little fingers?" He laughed cruelly. "Get a move on before I lose my patience." When Morgana didn't move, he raised his fist.

"Fine, I'm moving! Damn your eyes," she hissed. Silently, Morgana ran down a list of curses she had compiled in her mind for the moment she came face to face with Uther. The disgusting swine he had hired was more than deserving of some of them.

_I hope the wine you drink turns to poison in your mouth. _

_I hope you die and your dust turns to maggots which feed on your spawn._

_I hope you suffer a lonely eternity in Hell… _

* * *

_**A/N: I rather hope this was worth the wait! :D School, you know. **_

**_Anywhoo. Happy Valentine's for the 14th, if I don't get an update in by then!_**

**_Are we excited for the next chapter! The very epic scene of Morgana's execution. And thankyou to all my beautiful, wonderful reviews. I love you all to oblivion._**


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of voices woke Merlin up, and he was shocked at how quickly the courtyard had filled up. The sun was high in the sky, and he had to squint as he recognized some faces that he had passed often near Gwen's house. Then, they had seemed like friendly people, but now as their faces were pink with excitement, he felt somewhat disgusted. Not many executions like this happened in Camelot, but when they did, the whole town came to watch. Why? It was revolting to think that they would enjoy the sight of someone burning to death.

_How would they feel,_ Merlin silently fumed, _if it was their child, or their lover, or their friend up there? Would they be so eager to watch then?_

But then again, it could also be the fear of the King that drove them here. There couldn't be an example without someone being made an example _of_.

_Where is Uther anyway?_

His eyes wandered to the main point in this macabre scene: there was the pyre, completed and ready to burn. Uther would make a spectacle of the condemned girl. He would also probably make a speech against magic and infuse the kingdom with further terror.

Fear of magic, fear of the King.

Somewhere in his core, Merlin's anger flashed red hot. He felt the earth beneath him slightly crack, and attempted to get his fury under control. How many people were going to suffer for one man's pride? Breathing in and out evenly, he leaned against the wall and watched what was going on. Most importantly, he was waiting for the right moment to begin his plan. If he was too late, Morgana would die and there would be nothing he could do about it, however, if he was too early then the crowd and the King would become suspicious and they would search for Morgana far and wide if they thought she was still alive. It was better that they believed her dead.

The voices in the crowd began rising; it was nearing a tumult. They were many things, excited, frightened, angry, jeering. Some people pointed their fingers and shouted _'witch!'_ Merlin wondered what lies Uther had spread to justify murder. That she was conspiring against Camelot? That she planned to kill every last one of them?

How quickly they forgot the times Morgana had helped them! She'd helped save their lives, and cared so much for them, and yet they were insulting her like she was the slattern at the inn. She had risked her life time and time again, and was being punished cruelly for it.

Parting as though she carried an infectious disease, the crowd left an aisle leading up to the pyre. As she walked past them, they stopped talking one by one. This new cold silence was almost as bad as the insults, but even worse was Morgana's face. She seemed unperturbed by the icy reception she received and it was as though she was ignoring them. Her eyes were closed serenely; she was being led to her execution by the same guards which had dragged her in.

Even though he had seen her being presented in court in all her finery, with her silk skirts and gold embroidery, her hair held up by jewelled hairpins and gems glittering in her necklace, Merlin couldn't imagine a time when she looked as much like an actual princess as she did now. She floated along regally, with a barely-there smile on her face. Her chin was in the air proudly, she held her head high at the moment when she should have been most shamed. At times, he had seen Arthur parade along like that, but he was like the sparks produced by two sticks compared to the fiery glow Morgana exuded. He could pretend they were growing silent out of respect and not out of scorn. Morgana was beautiful.

A sudden crunch of twigs brought him to his senses. She was stepping up to the pyre.

It was now or never.

* * *

_This is it_, Morgana thought, as she was gripped by the arms and led into the courtyard. She decided to close her eyes, out of the fear that she would not be able to stand still while the flames licked her skin and bones. She did not want to give Uther Pendragon the satisfaction of watching her suffer for even a few seconds. A chill raked her flesh, and the streams of sunlight that pierced it were as uncomfortable as the cold itself, but she couldn't raise her arms to warm herself. If she moved anything but her legs, Morgana was sure she would be violently sick in front of everyone. She didn't need to be a bigger spectacle than she already would be. Though, if she _were _sick, she should like it to be on Uther. What a fantastic slap in the face that would be.

Morgana found if she just concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, and these thoughts that were unrelated to the process through which she would actually die, then she could stay relatively calm. Her lips kept twitching and wobbling, her eyes continued to tear up out of sheer terror if she thought about it for any given period of time. It had all become so real, so fast.

Could anyone have seen that it would end this way for her? Morgana smiled wryly. If anyone foresaw anything, of course it would be her. The night before, she had had the same dream. Her heart throbbed, tormented that her death would not change the outcome for this Kingdom. Morgana opened her eyes the smallest amount, peering through her long lashes. She saw the people congregated in the square to witness her passing and saw the looks on their faces. She felt strange; there was no blame or anger in her heart for them. If she could speak to everyone there, she would say the same thing.

_I forgive you._

Because how could she blame them for the madness of a despot? They had all been conditioned since birth to accept, fear and respect him and his laws. Anyone who opposed him had or would meet her fate.

_I am going to die._

Shaking inside, she felt the sticks of the pyre under her feet. She felt them bind her hands to something. She felt them thump her on the back and heard them whisper _'bye bye Princess.'_She felt the anticipation in the air. She opened her eyes and saw the object of all her loathing, every negative emotion that she had ever felt had connected itself with _him_. Uther Pendragon.

Morgana swallowed and then, she forced a mocking laugh. It rang across the courtyard. Uther glowered blackly at her and saw the looks of confusion on the faces of his people.

"Do you find something amusing, sorcerer? Let me remind you it is not _I _who is facing death." He attempted to shift the people's attention back to the one fact that he thought was all important: he held the power in this group.

"I find something very amusing, _my Lord_. I find it so very amusing that you think you can quell rebellion within your Kingdom, and discourage future sorcerers with my death. You are a fool. You think that I am the last with some form of magic? They're everywhere, and at this very second, they're plotting to destroy you. How long will you rule, Uther? You have a year at most, until someone realises that you're the leech in Camelot, that you're the reason for every famine and plague that sweeps through the kingdom. Do you think they'll let you live? You will _die_."

Uther's face had grown red. "Be silent, or I will have you silenced."

"You already are. What do you think I'm doing up there?"

"You are up there because you have broken the law." Uther hissed. "People of Camelot! We rid the land of another sorcerer today. In doing so, we are one step closer to peace. We are one step closer to-"

"You're a liar!" Morgana jeered. "Who is the 'we' you talk about, Uther? Surely the people know that you care only for one person."

"In Camelot, we are one," Uther defended.

"In Camelot, there is two, not one. The people and yourself. I wonder which one you care about…"

The crowd appeared even more uneasy. Morgana was echoing their most secret thoughts about Uther, and she was doing so in the man's presence. Morgana could see the effect she was having on the crowd. A spiteful happiness entered her; she was stirring the first feelings of rebellion in these people.

Uther decided not to take offence at her remarks. He decided to begin the execution instead. "Light the fire," he ordered.

Morgana's previous fright returned twice as bad, and she began to sweat in her struggle to stay still, stay calm.

_Don't give him the satisfaction_, she reminded herself, though there was a strong temptation to kick, scream, or run. Her self preservation instincts kicked in and howled at her to do something rather than allow them to kill her. They shrieked at her to protest and cause a scene. The idea was ridiculously seductive, but she clenched her jaw tightly and focused on one of the melancholy grey walls.

An orange light filled her vision as the twigs began to fizzle and burn. Dizziness rolled through her.

_I'm going to die_, she repeated.

Random names and memories rushed through her mind. She didn't want to fade, of course she didn't. She didn't want to be just a name that existed in this world for a couple of years, she wanted to be a star that exploded above their heads and they would remember her for all eternity.

Morgana's heart began pounding as it grew closer and closer, like the fire was unable to resist caressing her skin. She couldn't brace herself for the pain in store, just imagining it sent her into a tailspin. She was so much like the sparks and flecks of light burning before her eyes, evanescent. Fleeting, like a cloud that passed through the sky and chose to fade out of the great wide expanse of blue. But she didn't choose to fade, she was being pushed out. Pushed away.

Then something unbelievably loud that it rattled her eardrums exploded, and her world turned dark and misty. There was darkness and she relished it, thought she was still reeling from the explosion. Somewhere, Morgana's mind took flight, and her body slipped down, unable to be supported by her legs. She felt like they had the consistency of liquid for all they were doing. Morgana's eyes closed of their own accord, though had she been fully conscious of herself, she would have kept them open in order to see a shape in the shadows, or something in all the grey, because she couldn't accept it that the day had become night in a few seconds. Neither could her mind, and that was why it had left so easily, like a soul departs from a dead body.

* * *

Arthur watched from the corner with horror at the spectacle he could not stop. Camelot was not _his _kingdom to command and neither were the knights. The guards would spring on him in an instant if he were to try to stop this madness. He had an inclination that shaming his father in front of this crowd would have rather unpleasant repercussions for himself.

She walked past the people around her without looking at them or Arthur. She didn't even lay eyes on her executioner, Uther. Arthur felt a tugging at his sleeve and glanced at the source. A tear stained face was what he saw, and her watery eyes met his. It was Guinevere. Her expression was beyond melancholy, it was an expression of utter hopelessness. Tears continued to slip down her face in a rapid succession. Arthur felt an urge to wipe them away and promise her everything was going to be fine, but what was the use of pretending anymore? What happened when a great land became a giant masquerade?

A murderer masquerading as a king.

A coward masquerading as the heir to his throne.

A princess masquerading as their maid.

Guinevere was more fit to rule the kingdom than either Pendragons were. Soundlessly, he took her hand and offered her a clean handkerchief that was in his pocket. She buried her face into it and sobbed.

Arthur said the next best thing to '_everything will be fine_.' "We'll get by," he murmured. "We'll get by."

"You might," she sniffed, as she blew her nose quietly.

"Don't worry, you'll always have a place to live and a job here in the palace. I promise you, Guinevere." He considered adding '_and a place in my heart_' but immediately rejected that idea, dismissing it at too corny and too inappropriate for the situation.

"It's not the job I'm worried about!" she snapped at him. "Do you think me so heartless?" Guinevere's voice hitched as she cried. "I'm sorry. I'm just so…urgh. This is a terrible day. How can you father do this? Not that I'm questioning him! Just-"

"If you were then I'm not blaming you. I don't know what my father has become and I don't like it."

"Oh. That's –oh no, oh no. I can't watch this." She buried her face in Arthur's sleeve. Morgana was being led up to the pyre, and then bound her hands so that she must have had pain in her shoulders. But judging by the way that she glared at Uther, Morgana probably didn't even notice it. She exchanged the usual pleasantries with Uther, and Arthur saw the person beside him nodding vigorously. How unusual. He had never realised that so many people despised his father as much as he and Morgana did. Though they had suffered from his cruelty their whole lives. Arthur had only comprehended the evils in the King the past few days.

When he ascended the throne, he would change everything. For the people, and for Morgana.

When they let the flames begin, he averted his eyes. How could he watch her struggling for her life in these final moments? He steeled himself for when the screaming would start; his father had told him about enough executions like this when Arthur had been just a little boy and possessed the same morbid curiosity as befitted all young children. There would be a hideously mutilated body just being held up there while the flames continued to consume the remainder of the person.

Arthur looked over to his father. He balled his fists when he saw the satisfaction in Uther's. The bastard was thrilled. One day, when there weren't guards around, there would be hell to pay. Arthur saw his father frown, and then everything seemed to slow down to slow motion.

A tumultuous bang echoed in their ears. It shook the ground they stood on. He grabbed a hold of Guinevere so that she would not topple over. Then, the air around them filled with a deep grey dust, and the sound of people spluttering and coughing drowned out the noise of the King yelling for order. Arthur didn't remember how long they stayed that way, fumbling around in the grey and trying to clear the dust from their eyes. Eventually, he gave up and squeezed them shut to prevent more of it from irritating his eyes. He hoped Guinevere was doing the same.

Suddenly, the dust disappeared into thin air, much more quietly than it had appeared. Arthur made sure that Guinevere was alright before searching for his father. He saw his father staring at the pyre. Uther was surprised. There, the explosion must have acted as an accelerant for the flames; there was nothing left but a pile of ashes. Morgana was gone. He desperately pressed down on Guinevere's hand, but he couldn't feel much, it was like he had gone numb.

_But it doesn't matter because Morgana's gone._

* * *

_**A/N: …or **_**is**_** she? ;D Did I do justice to the execution scene? :D **_

_**Until the next chapter, my beautiful readers. 3**_


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur had promised her a new station in the castle, and so he had assigned her to the kitchen staff. Gwen was more than grateful for this new position; though the life of a maid had been leisurely as tending to Morgana was like helping out a sister, it gave her far too much free time to talk, socialise and think. She loved the hustle and bustle of kitchen duty already because there was always something to do. Before she had been assigned to this post, Gwen had known the kitchens were always busy because most nobles had voracious appetites. But she didn't know that they were _always _eating! This fact came as a pleasant surprise.

There was always something to do.

The only time she would have for herself was after the evening meal, where she planned to retreat to her home and mourn in the privacy of her bedroom. Now, as she brought the knife down repeatedly, she could blame the onions for the tears coursing down her face.

Gwen swiftly cut the onions, carrots, leeks, shallots and other vegetables that were meant to go into the stew. Wiping down the knife with a clean rag, Gwen spotted the head cook, a stout, red faced woman that the rest of the staff called 'Jill'. Her face was red and flushed because she quite a set of lungs on her; she could holler that the chicken was overdone so loudly that the people in the dungeons would know.

"Mistress…Jill?" she asked quietly.

Jill pointed a rolling pin she had been waving about earlier at her. "Honestly, you silly girl, don't go callin' me fancy names. Just do your work an' call me Jill, I won't bite ."

"Who's the stew for?"

"Who d'you think? The King, o'course." With that parting statement, the cook rushed off to salvage whatever was boiling over in a sturdy pot. It smelled delicious but thinking of food only made Gwen feel sick, like the grief was eating away at her heart and apparently her stomach too. She'd never thought she would have to suffer this again, not after her father died. She had thought that she wouldn't be able to bear going through this torture again. And it was only just beginning.

_Well, you'll just have to learn to be alone._

Surreptitiously palming a pepper shaker, she unscrewed the lid, hiding her hands in the fold of her apron. Gwen hesitated, and then emptied half of the contents into the stew. Someone had told her the King had a dislike for pepper and his stomach reacted violently to it. If she was going to have to live like this, in misery then _he _would have to get used to at least a little bit of discomfort. Right at that moment, a small but strong kitchen maid grasped the pot that the stew was in, and carried it away. Gwen gasped. She looked down at her hands and frowned. What was she doing? She hadn't had a bad thought towards anyone in her life! But Uther…it was like she was battling between the blurring lines of right and wrong.

_He deserves it_, Gwen argued with herself. _But then again, who am I to say who deserves what and who doesn't? It's not your place, Guinevere…_

But for all her cool reasoning, she couldn't calm the unexpected loathing she began to feel. She didn't remember ever feeling so…_angry_. It was so easy to blame someone else, but harder to blame yourself. Her father had taught her that. But she wasn't to blame for this; for her father's death, for her best friend's death. All fingers pointed to one man: Uther Pendragon.

_He has taken everything away from me_, she thought tearfully. _Everything!_

How far did her hatred go? How long would it be before she began eying that very attractive bottle of arsenic they kept in a cupboard with the other poisons, and thought about adding a new 'flavour' to the King's food, or before she found new uses for the knife that was reserved for dicing vegetables? These were new questions that had spring up with the emotions Gwen had never really experienced before.

And she didn't like it at all. She didn't really like anything in the whole damned kingdom anymore, really, except perhaps the place where her father died and where Morgana's ashes would be kept. Because at least they were _there_, and they couldn't leave her.

_Of course they can't leave you, Guinevere._

_They're dead._

* * *

Bathed in the final dregs of daylight, Merlin knew they would have to stop by for rest soon. Mostly because he did not want to have to explain to Morgana what she was doing with him on the back of a horse in the darkness. It would be easier for her to process the fact that she was not dead when she was warm by the fireside. If he could create a fire before she awoke. He _really _didn't want to have her watch his failed attempts at something so basic. If only he could use magic...but she wasn't aware of his secret yet. _To reveal mine would but her at rest about hers_, mused Merlin. _That, or she'll become angry with me for holding out on her for so long. _

There were so many problems that he didn't have the answer to! So many questions that had only crossed his mind _after_ he had exploded a barrel of grey dust to create a fog that had enveloped and blinded everyone so that he could tip out a jar of ashes and thus create the illusion that Morgana had in reality, died. It was a brilliant plan but if she was ever to return to Camelot, they were in very hot water. Boiling hot, in fact.

And Arthur! The prat would throw a fit without anyone to wash his socks or tidy his chambers, and so he would alert everyone that Merlin was missing. Uther wasn't as dim as he appeared, he might just put two and two together and figure it out. Merlin sighed aloud. It was one of the times where he wished Arthur cared just a little less about someone who was supposed to be his manservant; on the other hand, he wouldn't have had it any other way.

Merlin felt a soft hand brush his hand that was holding onto the reins and guiding the horse that he was walking alongside. He jerked backwards in surprise and softened: it was Morgana moving in her sleep. She wasn't stirring all that much, but once or twice an hour, she would tense and then go completely lifeless. After the first time she had nearly slipped sideways off the horse and onto Merlin, he had kept a closer eye on her. She needed rest. Facing death was enough to shake the strongest person, and Morgana was one of the strongest people he knew. Brave enough to face down Uther Pendragon, brave enough to accept the consequences of revealing her secret when the world was against magic. Gaius would have said she was stupid.

_Oh, damn it! _Merlin smacked his temple; he had completely forgotten to inform Gaius of his plan. Now there would be _more_ people questioning his whereabouts. But maybe it was for the best, because Gaius was too close to the kind and whether or not he liked to admit it, Gaius was old. He didn't need to be interrogated ruthlessly by the king. Merlin had seen him after being interrogated by the Witchfinder. His mentor had been disturbed and dazed for days.

_Stop talking and get moving. You'll never reach a village by tomorrow if you keep on thinking about things that are past your control._ His idea was that they could stay a village, preferably Ealdor, until Morgana decided what she wanted to do. He had a secret dread in the pit of his stomach that she would choose to march right back to Camelot and give the King what was coming to him. Of course, now he too wanted Uther off the throne and Arthur on it, but this wasn't the right way. Not yet.

His eyes flickered back to Morgana; this time he tripped over a large stone in his path while he wasn't watching the path in front of him. Merlin went sprawling over it and into a particularly muddy patch, and he felt it seep into his clothes and let out a yelp of discomfort as it got into his eyes. All the commotion roused Morgana from her sleep, as she attempted to get her bearings, the first thing she saw was a strange brown faced creature struggling beneath her. It was dark and she couldn't quite make out Merlin's features. Morgana shrieked and slid off the saddle. When she made contact with the earth, she just continued shrieking while holding her eyes.

Merlin hastened over to her and gently held her shoulders. "Morgana, calm down, it's just me. It's Merlin." She stopped screaming but continued breathing quickly.

"Merlin," Morgana repeated. "It's you. It was so dark, I was frightened and I still don't know where I am-"

Normally, he would have let her babble away her fears but this time he needed to come clean. "At the moment, you're safe."

Her breathing slowed but her eyes were very wide. Morgana stared piercingly into his and whispered. "Merlin, I thought I was dead. _I thought I'd gone to hell_," she whimpered. Morgana closed her eyes and her shoulders swayed a little under Merlin's arms. It was so much to take in. Perhaps a little too much for the time being.

"Good people don't go to hell. Don't worry, you're safe," he repeated, helping her from the ground. He was dismayed to find that his hands weren't as clean as he would have hoped. Merlin saw her open her mouth and stopped her. "I know you have questions, but we should really eat something. I don't know about you, but I'll feel better once I have food in my stomach."

"Alright," Morgana said shakily. "What shall I do?"

"Oh. Uh…" Merlin pondered over which task he should assign Morgana that wouldn't be too difficult. "Actually. You wouldn't know how to make a fire, would you?" he asked sheepishly.

"Better than you, I think," she teased softly, a little bit of her old personality shining through. After that, they worked in relative silence making a soup from the supplies Merlin had packed in a large brown satchel. He had also brought a thick blanket which he had stolen from Arthur's cupboard. Arthur had at least a dozen, he wouldn't miss just one. Once they had both finished their meal, Morgana looked at Merlin expectantly.

"So tell me, Merlin, how came I to be here? And why am I _alive_?"

Merlin squirmed uncomfortably. "I blew up a couple of barrels so that everyone couldn't see, and then I moved you, putting some ashes in your place. So everyone would…you know-"

"Think I was dead." Merlin nodded, crossing his fingers that she wouldn't ask how he'd done it so quickly.

"But…" Merlin winced in anticipation. "How did you manage to make the barrels explode?"

"Oh. Well, uh, Gaius showed me once."

"Gaius showed you," she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Of course. So he was in on the plan."

"No…everyone else thinks you're dead and that I've disappeared someplace," he explained, mentally berating himself over how stupid he sounded. "I did it all myself. I'm sorry."

Morgana's face immediately softened and she lowered her voice, a flush creeping up her neck. "Don't say that Merlin. It is I who should be apologising; I've caused you so much trouble! But I truly appreciate what you did for me. I was so scared, Merlin. I don't suppose you know what it's like; knowing you're about to die and no one in the world can help you. When the bastard of a King who tried to execute you, is probably celebrating your death over a glass of wine in his chambers. When his people have been brainwashed to agree with him. " Tears were forming in her lovely eyes. "People came and tried to reassure me but when you're accused of having magic, it's like the whole world has turned their back on you, as though you don't have a single friend."

"You've always got me," Merlin smiled, excepting a smile in return. Instead, she took one look at his cheery face and burst into tears. A little voice in his head started applauding sarcastically again.

_Bravo, Merlin. Well done. You _idiot.

Strangely enough, that voice reminded him of Arthur. Prat.

"Oh, damn it. Please don't cry Morgana." Almost like magic, she gulped and wiped angrily at her face.

"That's all I seem to do these days! Cry! I'm not thinking rationally. I'm nothing but a sentimental _woman_!"

"But you are a woman," Merlin said, confused by her sudden changes of heart.

"Thankyou for pointing that out Merlin," she sighed. "I don't know how you're going to put up with my insane mood swings…alright. I'm going to lock my feelings away for a while until I know what we're doing, where we're going and we've done it."

"Yes, well I was planning that we head toward a neighbouring kingdom or village and from there, you can decide-" He stopped abruptly.

"What is it?" she whispered. Merlin motioned for her to be silent and not to move. Morgana glanced around, searching for the cause of Merlin's new caution and then made a strangled gasp. She gestured wildly to Merlin but he was too late to respond as the newcomer to their impromptu camp raised their hand and put out the fire, leaving them in total darkness. Her limbs turned to stone as she wanted badly to disarm the intruder who had now wrapped an arm around Merlin's neck, pressing a gleaming silver blade to his neck, close enough so that any movements would push it into the flesh.

The figure, who had not yet raised his hood, spoke to them both, but not aloud. They heard the voice in their heads.

_Remember me, Emrys? _

* * *

**_A/N: I do apologise for the time it took for me to update. School. Need I say more?_**

**_I really hope this chapter was worth the wait... :)_**

**_3 White As Snow._**


	9. Chapter 9

Gaius felt a strange satisfaction as he watched the King's already white face go three shades whiter. When one of the servants had informed him that something in Uther's dinner had disagreed with him–violently–he had searched high and low among his stores for the vilest remedy that he could procure. Uther's actions had awakened the ghost-like memories that had been wandering about inside his head, memories from a time where his closest companions and friends had all died under the order of this man. Time had enabled him to bury the hateful emotions, but taking the life of a young girl with _everything_ to live for brought them back to life.

Delving into his memories at least fifteen years back, Gaius remembered the first time Morgana had come to him with her sleeping troubles. Her nursemaid, a thin, weary woman with wispy auburn hair and dark shadows beneath her eyes had accompanied Morgana and told him that her charge was encountering problems staying asleep.

"You know, the poor dear is probably still hurting over the death of her father, she probably still sees him in her dreams. _Poor_ thing! And all alone in this great castle too!" The whole time the woman was ranting, Morgana was fiddling with a colourful bracelet on her wrist, which seemed out of place next to the girl's haunted face. It was remarkably glum for a child of her years. "But you'll be alright soon enough, won't you dearest?" exclaimed the woman cheerfully as she smiled at the melancholy girl, and petted her hair, leaving the room.

"Can I tell you a secret?" That was the first time he had heard her speak. She had the same high pitch that all young children used, but the childish voice did not match the turmoil simmering in her eyes. Gaius, not wanting to say the wrong thing, merely nodded. She bit her lower lip and clenched her white hands into fists. "I dreamt…no, I saw. No. Wait. Yes, I dreamt. I dreamt that there would be a battle. It was terrible, and loud, and bloody. Then, I saw my father, surrounded by bad people: the enemy. And they tore him apart with their hands and swords."

Gaius wondered how she could be speaking of such horrors in such an even tone. "And then what happened?"

"I woke up."

At the time, he had not asked how she knew what had happened to her father; he assumed that someone had told her. It was later that he realised she must have foreseen it before the battle even occurred, when her father was breathing and standing before her eyes.

An even more awful thought struck him. _Did she foresee her own death?_

That thought was precisely the reason Gaius was placing his most revolting medicine in front of Uther. He did so silently and tried to without looking at the King but he caught a glimpse of Uther's facial expression. One word summed it up: paranoia. "Something troubling you, Sire?" Gaius asked lightly, counting four more palace guards in the room than there usually was.

Uther raised the glass containing Gaius' remedy, sniffed it and wretched. Instantly, two servants were by his side but he waved them away impatiently. He grimaced painfully and then hastily gulped the viscous liquid down, fighting the urge to gag. Watching him, Gaius smirked and said, "One tablespoon would have sufficed but the entire glass will do no harm, of course." Noting Uther's reddening face, he quickly inquired, "Are there assassins about, Sire?"

"Assassins? For all I know, there very well could be. A food taster died on me in the morning but we haven't found out why."

"I'll look into it, Sire. Has something given you reason to think this way?"

"That wench I burned today," Uther spat. "How do I know there are not _more _sorcerers within my own castle, lurking about somewhere? There are few I can trust! It's almost as though I can trust no one."

This time Gaius wanted to laugh aloud. He himself had once practised magic in this very castle. He was harbouring one of the most powerful warlocks known to the Old Religion, he had healed the Druid boy, kept Morgana's prophetic powers a secret for years, conferred with the Great Dragon, been accused of sorcery by the Witchfinder and still he was the least suspected of all of the people within the King's inner circle. Gaius wondered what Arthur thought of magic. There were rumours being spread by the palace gossips that there had been a falling out between father and son over this very topic but he dared not ask just yet.

"Indeed, Sire," Gaius said cautiously. "But you know, false accusations may only lead to another Great Purge. That was a dark time for this kingdom; I hope you are loathe to repeat it." Gaius gathered up his things to leave, feeling the familiar pang of loss for each friend who had died during the horrendous period.

"Gaius, wait." He paused with his hand on the doorknob, waiting for the King to speak. "You never really speak of that time, and I know that you actually knew some of the condemned sorcerers. But do you actually think that in the matter of the Great Purge, I was…_wrong_?" The King sounded disbelieving, as though he was finally seeing his physician's views on that chapter in Camelot's history.

Mulling over his choice of words, Gaius was quiet for a while, and he only heard the sound of breathing far behind him. "To be honest," he began, "I think you have been wrong a great many number of times, but it is not my place to question you. I am simply here to provide medicinal remedies and investigate scientific matters, which is my life's work. But I do not need to study for decades to know the difference between cruelty and mercy, justice and injustice, right and wrong. You were right about one thing, though, Sire…"

"What was that?" The King sounded slightly fearful.

"You cannot really trust anyone."

As he left, Gaius tried to pinpoint the moment where his vows and pledges of loyalty to this person had been shattered beyond repair, and the moment when he had actually realised it. He was shaking his head as he heard one _very_ irate prince howl, "MERLIN, where the _bloody hell _are you!"

* * *

No one was speaking aloud just yet, but Morgana heard the voice in her head clearly. She knew that voice, she knew who it was and she could already see that face beneath the hood. She should have been thrilled to see him again, so was she filled with dread? The only thing she didn't know was why he was holding a knife to her dear friend's throat and why he was calling him _Emrys_. It was unlikely that they had nicknames for each other now; he still only called her 'Morgana'. Morgana cleared her throat.

"Is that you, Mordred?"

Without removing the knife from Merlin's throat, Mordred lifted his hood to reveal his face. It was that same cherubic face carrying a very solemn expression. She thought she saw a hint of pleading in his piercing eyes. Merlin could not see the child but obvious discomfort comfort made itself evident in his face when he heard her say 'Mordred'.

"What are you doing Mordred?" Morgana cried. _Our other reunions were not like this_, she thought sadly. "Please let Merlin go."

"I'm sorry, Morgana. I haven't yet forgiven him for last time," Mordred said, loosening his grip on Merlin. She saw her friend breathe out in relief but still raised her eyebrows in confusion. _Last time?_

Merlin looked embarrassed as he explained. "The last time we met, in the Druid camp, I…uh, mistook Mordred for someone else and…nearly hurt him." Morgana wasn't entirely sure she believed him, judging from the scathing look Mordred cast in his direction, but she didn't want to become more confused with this already strange situation.

"Please release him, Mordred. For me. Merlin saved my life," she begged softly. "I can't let you do any harm to him after all he's done for me."

Mordred sighed. "I know. I didn't think you would let me hurt him. We know all about how he saved your life." He let go of Merlin entirely, who scrabbled to his feet and stood beside Morgana. Mordred saw their questioning glances. "Oh, we as in the rest of the Druids. We have people in Camelot who report back to us on what happens. We have a camp, that is magically protected. Only people with magic can pass through the entrance. And when we heard that Uther was going to execute you, I came back to save you Morgana," he smiled adorably. "But someone else saved you first. I followed you both so that I could bring you back with us."

"Bring us back where?" frowned Merlin.

"To the city. You can help us."

"What could Merlin and I possibly help you with, Mordred?" Morgana grimaced. "I'm supposed to be undercover, and Merlin has to return to Camelot soon before they suspect him of anything."

Merlin stirred. "What? I'm not going back anywhere. Until you're safe and happy, I'm sticking with you," he said determinedly. "Sorry if that sounded cliché, I just-"

"We'll discuss this later Merlin." Morgana rolled her eyes.

His eyes shining, Mordred leaned in closer to them. "Most of the people in the camp are unhappy being hunted down all the time. We're frightened. We want Uther off the throne so we can allow magic to return to Camelot." He addressed Morgana. "We can see other all the time without having to hide from the King, and no one will be burnt at the stake."

"Uther's reign will end in a matter of time," Merlin argued. Morgana wondered where this was going.

"Why should we have to wait?"

Morgana closed her eyes as she took in all Mordred was saying. It chilled her that he was so young but was already getting caught up in plots to assassinate the despot king of Camelot, but couldn't help but want to get involved too. Did he even know what he was talking about, or had someone else put words in his mouth? Though that was one of her dearest wishes: vengeance. Vengeance and justice, for everyone Uther had unfairly persecuted. This was her opportunity. She had shamed herself last time by killing the assassin who was meant to deliver the fatal blow, but this time would be no mercy. Better yet, they would take him down with magic, the thing he despised most of all. It would be a wonderful end for the monster who had tried to destroy her.

"You don't have to, Morgana, Merlin. But-"

"No," Morgana interrupted, with a hasty glance at Merlin. "I'm with the Druids."

Looking defeated, Merlin mumbled, "I'll accompany you Morgana, but I'll have to think about it."

"We can leave in the morning then," Mordred said.

As they were laying down to sleep beneath the endless sky from which daylight had faded, Morgana thought about Merlin. She didn't understand his reluctance to join her, but then remembered that he had a life and a future in Camelot. She couldn't possibly ask one of her friends to remain with her, and yet…she wanted him to. But how was Merlin was going to enter the Druid camp?

_Didn't Mordred say that only people with magic can enter?_ She rolled over and pondered mumbling to him, "Merlin…how are you going to get into the camp?". Her body, on the other hand had different ideas, and her eyelids shut as she slipped into sleep and into the same cruel dream that taunted her of Camelot's impending destruction.

Was she to be a part of it?

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry sorry sorry for the hideous wait! But I only uploaded this in Document Manager and then thought I had posted it. ;_; Please forgive me! **_

_**Next chapter, we'll be meeting Druids, talking to Gwen, revealing secrets to other characters maybe, and for the fun of it, perhaps even the Great Dragon. :D**_


	10. Chapter 10

His room had _definitely _seen better days than this. The pile of unwashed, crumpled clothes in the corner was already beginning to build up; there was dirty cutlery and crockery littering the few tables in the room and his bed had been unmade for two nights in a row. Gwen theorised that Arthur would have cleaned everything but the trouble was that he probably didn't know how to do it. She could tell that he had struggled with the sheets for hours that morning, twisted and tangling them into and even bigger mess, but he couldn't figure out where anything went and just dumped the pile into a corner. Gwen sighed, knowing that it wasn't really his fault. Arthur was a prince. He had many things to learn, and had training. Why bother with learning these menial tasks when they could easily be performed for him by a servant?

Gwen stopped her train of thought. _Don't be bitter towards Arthur, just because you grieve for Morgana. Just because you've lost everyone that ever cared about you. _It was almost true, now that Merlin had disappeared yesterday. Arthur had managed to excuse her from working in the kitchens for a day so that they could search for him together, but there were few places for her to look. There was such an abundance of people at the castle that it would be impossible for Merlin to be lurking around unseen, but Arthur still insisted that she keep an eye open for him while he searched outside the castle. Gwen looked but now there was the issue of Arthur's chambers. She might as well clean them in Merlin's absence.

It was almost midday when Arthur came inside to find her plumping his pillow and smoothing out his sheets. A look of surprise flitted across his face. "Guinevere! What are you doing here? Please tell me you didn't tidy this mess."

"You're welcome," she mumbled, trying to walk past him but he blocked the doorway.

"You shouldn't have, that's a servant's-" Arthur cut himself off and looked embarrassed.

"It's alright. I'm not ashamed that I'm a servant. We can't all be royalty," said Gwen bitterly. She immediately felt guilty as she studied Arthur's expression. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me, I'm upset for Morgana. Did you find Merlin?" she asked, changing the subject and smiling gently to show that she wasn't upset.

Arthur frowned. "No. I have no idea where the idiot has taken off to!"

"I talked to Gaius today. He has no idea where he's gone and Merlin didn't tell him anything. Gaius says that he's probably done something stupid out of grief, but I pray that's not true."

"Knowing Merlin, it probably is. I wouldn't be so angry if he had _told_ me, but that's Merlin for you, running off at the drop of a hat," Arthur grumbled.

"Do you think…maybe he had some feelings for Morgana?" Gwen asked hesitantly, feeling that little _pang!_ in her stomach when she said her name.

Arthur buried his face in his hands. "God, I hope not. That'd just make everything worse than it already is," he groaned. "But it would explain why he ran off. He could have told me! I could have helped him. I could have helped the idiot but he doesn't trust me."

"No! He worries about you, Arthur."

"Right," snorted Arthur. "And that's why he disappeared without a word. That's bound to make me worry less. Completely tactless of him as usual, to add one other problem to this growing list. Morgana, him, my father…" Arthur sunk into a chair that was no longer occupied by his dirty laundry.

"What happened with your father?" Gwen hadn't known that he was quarrelling with the King, but now she supposed it would have been inevitable. If she were the crown prince then she would have gone head to head with the kingdom's ruler to save Morgana. She was worth saving, worth rocking the boat for. Capsizing it, actually.

"We argued about things. He's so wrong about everything, but he's deluded himself into believing that he's right. Don't you think so?" Gwen kept silent and motionless while he talked but now she bowed her head to reply.

"Arthur…we have to be careful about what we say. It's dangerous to speak treason. Look at what happened to Morgana, if she's not exempt from these laws then I'm definitely not. I'm just a servant. I _do_ agree with you, but we must be careful," she explained quietly. "We'll get through this." As she said it, they both were unsure as to whether that was the truth. _Will we?_ Gwen asked herself. Quietly, she picked up a hamper full of Arthur's clothes that she would take to be washed. He began to raise himself from his chair, embarrassed.

"No, you don't have to do that-"

"It's alright, it'll give me something to do. No one has seen Merlin that I asked, and I asked nearly everyone," Gwen reported sadly as she left the room. As she walked alone down the corridors of the castle, her eyes stung as she fought back tears. It was difficult when she didn't have anything to do or something else to concentrate on because inevitably, her thoughts would snap back to those of her friends and family who were no longer there and reminded her of how truly alone she was. She coped well enough when she was with Arthur though, because while he was with her, she could pretend that she wasn't facing a long, bitter life of loneliness.

_Can you die from being too lonely? _She wondered as she passed the dining hall where the King usually ate his meals. Gwen stopped abruptly as she heard a piercing scream sound from in the room. She abandoned the basket and rushed in with some other servants and guards who had heard the cry. The King was standing over his food taster, watching coldly as the man howled and writhed on the ground in obvious pain. The man, who Gwen had seen only in passing, was clutching his abdomen and his eyes rolled back in his head, as his face turned exceptionally pale and his veins stood out on the white skin. A goblet of wine was spilt near the man's feet.

"Oh," Gwen gasped lightly. She could guess what had happened: someone had tried to poison the King. A shiver ran down her spine as she realised that a person had attempted to do what she had considered just the other day.

Someone had tried to kill the King.

Arthur, who had probably heard the commotion, ran into the room and saw the dying man at his father's feet. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed, crouching down feeling the man's pulse. A horrified look crossed his face, and after a pause he looked at his father. "He's dead. What did you do to him?"

Uther flapped a hand at Arthur. "This was not of my doing. Someone has committed treason by attempting to poison me. It is…_unfortunate_ that-"

"Unfortunate! You let him taste the poison so that the forfeit of his life would sustain yours!"

"That was his occupation. He was well aware of the accompanying risks. Had I not taken the precaution of employing him to check for poison in my meals, it would not be a mere servant lying dead before you, but the king of Camelot. That would be unacceptable," Uther thundered. Gwen nearly put her hand on Arthur's shoulder but that would have been a complete faux pas considering the audience assembled here. But what Uther said next stunned almost everyone else in the room.

"I cannot be sure that the poison was in the wine. Who knows, he could have been suffering from some other affliction. Someone else must drink it so that we may be certain."

"Sire, it is almost impossible that anything but poison has caused this," Gaius interjected, appalled as the rest were. He had arrived after Arthur and had not yet examined the ill-fated man but this had not stopped him from making the obvious conclusion. "You cannot be willing to…" Gaius' sentence trailed off into uncertainty. It would be suicidal to call the King callous or cruel at this point in front of a crowd, Gwen deduced. She couldn't blame him, because they all wanted to keep their heads attached to their necks.

Uther stared coldly around the room, ignoring the words of the physician. He eyed, in particular, the servants and Gwen flinched and drew back when his eyes passed over her. She knew what he was looking for: a person to drink the wine, and so, die. She felt sick, at Uther for his thrice-damned cold heart. Her eyes widened when his malicious gaze fell on a young boy of about eight years. Gwen recognized him from the stables. Holding her breath, she watched and gulped hard as he picked up the goblet with his shaking hands and prepared to drink. The boy brought the goblet to his lips, wretched out of fear and then gazed pleadingly at Uther.

"Please, Sire, at least allow me to find some antidote for the poison so that another life is not wasted," Gaius implored.

"No. I will have answers now."

Gwen's eyes were drawn to a sobbing woman in the corner of the room. This was probably the boy's mother; she could see the woman pushing her way through the crowd tears streaming down her pale face. "Please!" she shrieked. "_Please_, don't make my son do this, I beg of you. I will drink the wine for him, I do not fear death. Please, I'm begging you. Don't make him give up his life, he is young and I am an old woman- I've had seen many years and he has not yet seen ten summers. I implore you to be just…" she cried, as a guard held her back.

The King's eyes narrowed. "Silence, wench, or I will have you removed from my presence!" He flicked his fingers at the young stable hand. "_Drink_."

Her heart pounding wildly in her chest, Gwen watched with trepidation as he boy tilted his head back and drunk. Silence filled the room as the goblet slipped from the boy's sweaty hands. He stood there, and they all waited with bated breath, but it seemed as though the boy would be fine. Gwen was sighing with relief when the stable hand choked and lurched to his knees, shivering. Sick gagging sounds filled the room while his body was racked with seizures and he began to mimic the last moments of the King's late food-taster. Gwen cast a furious glare towards Uther who was watching the spectacle with a satisfied look on his face. She could only guess by the slight smug smile on his lips that he predicted the outcome of his little 'experiment'. It was just another ploy to have his subjects fear him. If they couldn't respect him, fear was probably the next best thing to Uther Pendragon.

"NO!" screamed the boy's mother, when the boy's pain-racked frame ceased moving. He was dead.

"It was a shame that your son had to die. But rest assured that he died for a noble cause." These were the only words that the King offered the bereaved woman who was beside herself with grief. Gwen was aghast; surely he had something better to say for a mother who had lost her beloved son? The woman pointed an accusing finger at the King and screeched loudly, "Murderer!" This was definitely not the first time someone had called Uther that in many days and it almost certainly would not be the last.

Gwen was pushed to the side as guards rushed forward to assist in restraining the woman who was flying at the King with such a look of poisonous loathing in her eyes, that she would not be surprised if Uther turned and fled. But he gave her his icy glare and stood his ground while he allowed trained warriors to defend him against a frail, grieving woman. "Just get her out of my sight," he ordered them, as they marched her from the room. Uther then avoided making eye contact with the others in the room as the remainder of the guards escorted him from the room. Gwen glanced at Arthur. It was probably good that his father had an escort because she didn't trust him not to fly at Uther himself, he was shaking so hard with fury. His hands were balled into fists, and he stormed out of the room, taking the time to kick some vases over.

As she turned to leave, Gaius called out to her. "Guinevere, wait. Have you seen Merlin since we last spoke? I'm going to kill that boy when I find him. But I must admit, I am glad that he isn't here right now."

His last statement caught her by surprise. "Why?"

"I don't trust him not to do anything stupid. I'm sickened by that poor boy's death but it would have been worse for us if it was Merlin, which it probably would have been. He would have either drunk the wine for the boy, or tried to intercede." Gaius exhaled. Gwen noticed that the events of the last few days must have taken a toll on him. He appeared exceptionally stressed and worn out, and Gaius wasn't exactly young either. He noticed her observing him and hastily asked her, "So how are you coping Gwen?"

"I'm having trouble keeping my mind off Morgana…you know. But I don't suppose you can help me with that. I might feel a little better once we've found Merlin or at least where he has run off to."

"If you're feeling ill or are having trouble sleeping, then I can provide some tonics for you, but otherwise time will heal. Trust me, I know." He appeared resigned. "Time will heal everything."

After he had gone, Gwen mulled over what he had said. _Time will heal everything_. It had several meanings, she found. It applied to the untimely death of her best friend, but it also applied to something else. The tyranny and reign of Uther Pendragon. Even thought Uther acted as though he was all-powerful, he was mortal. He would die someday and that was completely certain. When he died, his rule would end and Arthur would take the crown. With time, all would be well.

_Time_, thought Gwen somewhat despairingly. _If I have only Time to rely on to end this kingdom's suffering, that means I must wait. Wait, and watch other people suffer. There must be another way._


	11. Chapter 11

Since sunrise they had been travelling in near silence except when Mordred would give them a direction to turn right or left. Merlin hadn't noticed until now that they had never had to look out for anyone pursuing them from Camelot. It struck him as odd, but he supposed that Mordred had already taken precautions. He didn't know if he quite trusted the young Druid especially after he had held a knife to his throat, but as he was travelling with someone who had been "executed" for treason and another whose race was considered an enemy to the kingdom of Camelot, it wasn't as though he had much choice. But the company he kept wasn't a problem when he considered the fact that Morgana _was _going to discover his secret. Mordred knew already but had kept quiet to her, though that wouldn't matter any more when they had to pass through the entrance to the Druids secret camp which only people with magic could enter.

Merlin could only guess at what her reaction would be. He doubted she had problems with him actually possessing magic; the issue would most probably be the fact that he had lied and concealed it from her. Every time he anticipated her response, Merlin felt sick in his stomach. Nauseous. He made a face and continued walking alongside Morgana and Mordred's horses. Morgana noticed his discomfort. "Do you want to ride on the horse with me, Merlin?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"No, no, I prefer walking actually." Merlin smiled and tried to look sincere, but the real reason he didn't want to ride with her was that it would make him uncomfortable to be so close to her. He would be blushing like a fool the whole time and she'd probably notice. Morgana always did. "How long do we have to go, Mordred?" asked Merlin, trying not to sound too childish. By the way the Druid smirked at him, he didn't succeed in doing so. He might as well have whined, '_Are we there yet?_'

"We are almost there, Emrys. It's just beyond these trees."

Something about the lack of noise made Merlin suspicious. He certainly hoped Mordred wasn't leading them into a trap. They manoeuvred the horses through the trees to emerge at a clearing. It looked like someone had burnt down any vegetation that may have once grown there, and the soil was littered with ash; black. Merlin spun around to face the boy. "Where are we? Where have you led us to?" He glanced at Morgana but she appeared horrified, and her eyes glistened.

"Has something happened to your camp, Mordred? God, where _is_ everyone?" she asked, aghast. Mordred smiled at Morgana.

"It's alright. This is just an illusion," he said reassuringly, getting off the animal and walking into the clearing. He stopped at a charred log and then turned, saying, "Follow me. You can leave your horse there, they know what to do." Mordred then stepped confidently forward over the log and disappeared. Morgana shrieked and then clamped her hands over her mouth, looking nervously around to check whether anyone had heard. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "Still unsettled, I think."

Merlin motioned for her to dismount and follow him. As they neared the place where Mordred had stepped into the Druid camp, Morgana placed her hand on Merlin's shoulder. "So, is this goodbye, Merlin?"

"What do you mean?" Merlin was confused. He wasn't going to be parting from her, especially not now. Then he remembered the thing that he had been stressing about for every waking moment since Mordred had told them. And he still hadn't figured out what he could say to make Morgana understand if she reacted badly to his secret. Still, it felt like he had just been inhaling until this moment, hiding things from so many people. Letting Morgana know would be like exhaling.

"He said- Mordred said that only people with magic could pass the entrance into the camp," Morgana frowned. "I may be only a seer but that's magic enough. I don't think you can come with me…"

_Now or never,_ Merlin thought. Wordlessly, he took one of her white hands, never breaking eye contact with her. He couldn't help but notice, in this crucial moment, how beautiful and kind her eyes were even when she was frowning. Together, they walked past the magical barrier and into the camp. They didn't feel anything but their environment had definitely changed, and there was a tumult compared to the silence they had grown accustomed to earlier. But Morgana just stared at Merlin as though she was seeing him in an entirely different way. Merlin didn't let go of her trembling hand, he was afraid that she would run off with shock or disgust at him, and he promised himself that he would let go only when she'd said something.

"Oh."

"…Morgana?" he said nervously. She gulped in air, as if she was trying to say something but couldn't make out the words. "Erm, I understand if you're angry with me for hiding it for so long, you know, that I had magic but I can explain," he burbled. "See, when we first met I thought that you were Uther's friend and that you might tell him about me which may not, I mean, isn't, the case now so I just…" Merlin willed himself to stop babbling and looked her in the eyes.

Morgana lifted the hand that he wasn't holding and slapped Merlin. The sound seemed to echo in his eyes and pain flooded the right side of his face. Then, she threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. He stood there, completely dazed though he knew he should have been on his guard for a dagger in the back. Not that he suspected that Morgana would stab him but she had just slapped him, after all. And his cheek still stung. "Are you angry at me?" he ventured timidly.

"Yes," she replied, her eyes shining. She had such a strange expression on her face that he couldn't tell what she was feeling. It was like she was halfway between strangling him and kissing him. But her eyes didn't convey any of the hatred Merlin had seen directed towards him by other people and he couldn't really believe that she was mad with him. Nevertheless, Merlin still took a precautionary step backwards. Morgana closed her eyed, took deep breaths, and when she opened them again she stared through Merlin. She treated him like he was invisible and Morgana strode past him towards Mordred who had observed the whole scene.

Merlin watched her walk away from him and Mordred smirked at him again, whispering, "I was hoping she would knife you but we _do _need you for our plans. But another slap wouldn't have gone amiss."

Ignoring the Druid's snide comments, he whispered desperately back, "Do you think she hates me?"

"Oh, well and truly, _Emrys_. Congratulations."

Suppressing the urge to give Mordred a good kick up the backside, because he was just a child albeit a cruel one, Merlin gazed after Morgana as she walked ahead of them and then cast his eyes to his surroundings. It was like the Druid camp he had seen earlier, and he thought he recognized faintly a few faces. The stark contrast to the deathly burnt clearing was obvious; there were people talking, preparing food, looking after children, performing magic. Despite the awful reaction from Morgana, Merlin could not help but smile. Now that everyone here _knew_, he wouldn't have to hide it as long as he was here. These people had magic running in their veins. They would not judge him.

He noticed that the level of noise decreased as he progressed to the other side of the camp. There were larger tents here, and as he peered inside, there were stacks of paper with detailed maps and writing that he couldn't decipher. Mordred shot him a scathing glare when he tried to look inside one tent.

_Emrys, you mustn't pry here_.

Merlin heard Mordred's voice in his head. There was something ominous about the way he said it, and Merlin wondered what secrets the Druids could be harbouring. With their secretive and shadowed background, it could be anything. That notion alone was quite alarming and Merlin decided that at the moment, he just didn't want to know. _I have enough to deal with already_.

When Mordred stopped, it was outside a tent that was larger than all the others, and could have housed fifty fully grown men and a griffin comfortably. However, only one man emerged to greet them. He was taller than Merlin and appeared to be in his thirties though Merlin knew that the man could be any age at all and have changed his appearance by means of magic. He had cropped auburn hair, hazel eyes that were flecked with gold and tanned skin. As the Druid stepped out into the sunlight, Merlin noticed something on his face: he had frown lines on his forehead, but strangely enough, also had laugh lines around his mouth. They were not obvious, unlike the scar that ran along the side of his neck.

"Mordred. I trust this is the Lady Morgana and Emrys?" he said briskly, glancing at them quickly. When Mordred nodded, his face softened and he have them an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, we are always on the look out for spies of Uther that may manage to enter our secret camp. My name is Cybrán. Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he bowed smoothly and extended his right hand.

Merlin shook it. "You know, if only people with magic can get in here, it's unlikely that Uther's spies will be able to. Uther hates magic."

Cybrán smiled wryly. "As we Druids know only too well." He extended his hand to Morgana, who offered her own, which he kissed. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances. I understand that the events that led you here were not pleasant, but fear not, your suffering shall be avenged." This time, Cybrán addressed them both. "We are a race who has been wrongly persecuted by Uther Pendragon since he foolishly entered an agreement with the High Priestess Nimueh and ended up losing his wife but gaining a son. We understood perfectly how Nimueh defended herself. The balance of the world must be restored and Uther refused to see that. He unleashed his anger on magic and not his own ignorance, and now we are forced to hide in this camp after we were cast away from Camelot. We too have suffered. Our plans for ending his reign are being made as I speak but we have needed something. You. Together, you two possess more inside knowledge about the goings on inside the walls of Uther's castle that our few spies will ever know."

"You want us to help you?" Morgana asked.

"Exactly. So, will you help us bring about the end of a tyrant's unjust rule?" Seeing Merlin's expression, he hastily added, "Of course you may have time to consider this."

"Thankyou," Merlin breathed, relieved. Something instinctual told him that there was more to meet the eye with these Druids. There was something too slick about Cybrán, something that told Merlin that he was withholding some vital fact from them. He was surprised that Morgana didn't feel it too. Wasn't women's intuition supposed to be better than a man's?

"I don't need any time at all to consider this. I am with you. I will do my best to bring down Uther Pendragon," she cried. She didn't meet Merlin's gaze but stared at Cybrán, excited.

"Excellent! Then you must begin talking to the others inside, they will have many questions that you can answer." Before Merlin could request to speak with her privately, Cybrán led her inside the tent, and she followed without so much as a backward glance for him. He felt a stab of hurt in his chest. She had said that she was angry with him, but why did Morgana hug him? He wanted to know how she really felt about this but he would just have to resign himself to waiting.

Mordred also accompanied them into the tent. "Merlin, you cannot come in here with us unless you agree to help. But in the meantime, you can look around." He added,_ Remember what I said earlier, Emrys_.


	12. Chapter 12

Merlin stomped away from the tent, very much irritated by that smooth-talking Cybrán. There was something amiss about this whole plan. It simply couldn't be that easy to topple the reign of one madman, otherwise someone would have done it long ago. But to oppose Morgana at this point would be stupid on his part. She already mistrusted him for keeping the secret of his magic. Merlin guessed that she thought that he should have reciprocated when she revealed_ her_ magic. There would be hell to pay if he didn't support her now. But why didn't Morgana understand all the risks that came with a power like his? Already he had had his fair share of magical psychopaths attempting to kill those he loved who offered him a place at their side.

"_You too are a creature of the Old Religion. You should join me."_

But he'd always thought he was human, flesh and blood. More like Arthur or Lancelot than Nimueh.

"_Join me. Together we can rule over this land. Arthur will tremble at your voice. He will kneel at your feet."_

Merlin had never wanted Arthur to tremble at his voice, or kneel at his feet. He wanted Arthur at his side, a friend. Not a slave. Cornelius Sigan had made him an offer that was easy to refuse.

"_People like you and I, we must look after each other."_

And yet, Edwin had turned out to be a crazed warlock, so hell-bent on revenge that he had attempted to burn Gaius alive to protect the secret of his magic from the King he wanted to punish, before Uther punished him for being a sorcerer. Merlin believed he was nothing like Edwin.

"_Together we could have ruled the world."_

Nimueh's final words to him; they too, meant nothing.

These phrases echoed in Merlin's head as he walked around the Druid camp. They had made promises that sounded good, to someone who was after power or position, but he wasn't interested in those things. _And even if I was_, he added to himself_, they wouldn't be worth it after what I'd have to do to get them._

As he contemplated this, Merlin failed to notice he had reached an area of ground which was particularly rocky. He lost his footing and stumbled, sailing into the corner of a tent. He panicked, praying that the tent would not come crashing down around him. Morgana would _really _never forgive him then. He rolled over and found himself lying on him stomach with his head inside the tent and the rest of his body in cold, moist soil outside of it. Merlin was sure he felt something squirm beneath him. Squeamish, he tried to get up, until he heard voices and became immediately still. Mordred's warning was still fresh in his ears.

Flashes of Druids magically beating the life out of him for eavesdropping on their secret plans appeared and his breathing grew faster. Merlin struggled to remain still as the two Druids passed right by him and settled down at a table.

"Where is Cybrán now?" the woman, who was around Gaius' age, asked her male companion.

"Probably spinning a pretty tale to get that girl to join us," replied the younger man in a bored voice, rummaging through his satchel and pulling out several scrolls. "If she joins us, the boy's bound to follow like a sheep." Merlin's eyes grew wide as he realised they were discussing him and Morgana. If only they knew he didn't follow blindly, he made his own choices. Though he'd followed Morgana into this strange camp.

The woman laughed. "Of course he will follow. He is a boy and she is a beautiful girl. It's the only reason we need her, really." Her tone changed and Merlin saw her blue eyes narrow. "He has not realised our true intentions, has he?" she questioned, running her wrinkled hands through her greying hair. Mentally, Merlin kicked himself. He blamed himself for letting them get caught up with these two timing Druids.

"Of course not. Cybrán would have the head of anyone who let our plans slip. Do you remember the story of what happened last time? That wench had her tongue cut out for telling some boy about our _last _hiding place. From what I have been told, Emrys simply believes that he and the Seer will be helping us with information."

"Yes," mulled the woman. "But what will we do with the Seer once this plan is completed? She is too useful to kill, surely? I'm sure Cybrán will find a use for her. He's a resourceful bastard." Merlin noted this seeming derisive attitude they harboured towards the other Druid: he was in charge, apparently, but they disliked him. However, it was nothing compared to Morgana's hatred for Uther.

The man stowed his scrolls away after making a few additions in black ink. "Indeed. Her destiny is to have a place at the side of one of our own Druids, to rule when we take Camelot. And Emrys shall be on his other side, once we have used his power to destroy the last of the Pendragons."

_The last of the Pendragons, _Merlin thought, shocked. _But that would be...Arthur. _They had been plotting to kill _all _the Pendragons, not one despot King. They wanted to use Merlin and Morgana to do it. They wanted revenge.

Merlin pushed himself upright, leaving scratches across one cheek where he had crawled back from under the tent. Mordred was waiting outside the tent that Morgana had gone into so willingly, so unaware of the very real danger they were putting their friends in. It was his turn to glare at Mordred and he did so with pleasure. "You're going to go inside right now, and get Morgana for me. _Now!_" he ordered, wanting to get her out of this mess immediately. Mordred raised his eyebrows at Merlin condescendingly."As you wish Emrys."

Obligingly, he disappeared and moments later returned with Morgana. She was much happier than a few moments ago, but Merlin supposed that listening to plots to kill the person you hated most in the world could only make you feel better, rather than worse. "Merlin! What do you want?"

He pulled on her arm and led her away from the young Druid who was watching him suspiciously. "Listen to me, Morgana. I've just heard something from some other Druids. I was eavesdropping and I-"

"Eavesdropping!" she interrupted. Merlin glanced around nervously to see if anyone else could hear.

"Shh, keep your voice down please. I don't want anyone to hear this. I heard them and they want to kill Arthur."

Morgana laughed scornfully. "Arthur? Please. It's Uther they're after, not Arthur."

"No, they want to destroy all the Pendragons so they, Druids, can rule the land. We have to leave."

Her eyes widened and she took a step back. "Leave? I don't want to leave, Merlin. We have an opportunity to save the people of Camelot and you want to throw it away because of something you supposedly 'heard'?" Her beautiful hands made quotation marks around the word 'heard'. Merlin's heart sank as he realised she didn't believe him.

"You have to believe me Morgana, I'm looking out for you. You can't do this to Arthur, he's practically your brother."

"I _have _to believe _you_? You've been lying to me this whole time, so you're not exactly a candidate for truth telling...you know what really makes me mad? I could have had someone to confide in, to help me with my power and you kept yours a secret from me. I was alone. Do you know how _cold_ it is, when you can't talk to anyone because they'll tell you it's just dreams, or nonsense, or that you're insane? I don't think you do. And now you're siding with Uther Pendragon against me. You have betrayed my trust and I can't hold you to a single thing you say!"

Merlin stared at Morgana. Everything was going hideously wrong and it was his fault. He shouldn't have lied; it just made everything harder now that he was telling the truth. But he'd saved her life, didn't that prove something? It ought to have shown her that he was on her side, but still she didn't believe him.

"You know what, Morgana? Fine. You stay here with these Druids and plot to kill your friends. But I'm going home to Camelot, and I'm going to find a way to stop you. I'm going to save Arthur, because that is my destiny. If you think it's your destiny to bring him down, then by all means, try to kill the future King. But I _will_ stop you." It was hurting him, to deliver such harsh words to her but it was his only chance of successfully convincing her to leave this madness behind.

It appeared to have worked. She swayed on the spot, surprised and reached out for him. "Merlin," she whispered. "Please stay with me." He looked into her eyes and relented. Everything he had just heard was lie, because it was impossible that anyone but the angel standing before him was telling the truth. Then, as Merlin was about to clasp her hands in his, he saw Mordred smirking in the background, and he felt determination to protect Arthur rise in his chest. He pulled his hands away and walked away from her, his heart breaking with every step he took.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

Gwen was on her way to the castle when she saw a lone figure on a horse coming towards the gates of the city. Peering up at them in the afternoon sun, she recognised the face as Arthur's. "Arthur!" she exclaimed. "Where are you going? Have you found them?" she exclaimed, then realised her mistake. "Err, Merlin. Have you found Merlin?" She hurried to crush the rising hopes welling up in the form of tears in her eyes.

Arthur looked down at her and averted his eyes when he saw she was on the verge of tears. _What must he think of me, _Gwen asked herself_, being such a _woman_, crying every five minutes. Weak, lonely Guinevere. Pathetic._ He couldn't possibly know what she was thinking but his reassuring smile reached out to her.

"I'm going out to search for Merlin. He does so many incredibly idiotic things that someone is bound to have noticed him. Then I'm going to bring him back, and after I've killed him, we'll all get back to normal." As Arthur said this, a shadow passed over his face.

"There won't be a normal," Gwen murmured, so low she was almost sure Arthur didn't hear her. She spoke her next sentence louder. "Please return soon and safe."

"I promise, Guinevere. I'm not going to leave you," he said, as he galloped away. _The other three_, she thought, as he rode away from her_, the other three promised me the exact same thing._ Arthur was thinking very much the same, hoping that those wouldn't just be empty words for her. He'd felt pain and grief when a fellow knight was killed in battle. It did nothing for his mental health to know that those men were probably placing themselves in the line of danger for him, but it was something he knew was unavoidable in some situations. Over the years, he had managed to distance himself somewhat from feeling those crushing emotions when someone near to him died, but Morgana's death had broken down his carefully built barrier. He had wept silent tears over her, ones that he was glad Merlin was not here to see.

Arthur was about to take his normal track into the forest, when he spotted something in his peripheral vision. On closer observation, it was a small scrap of fabric. Red, like that ridiculous neckerchief that Merlin insisted on wearing every day. It was so noticeable amongst the deep greens of the tree that he was amazed bandits hadn't spotted it and gone after Merlin. Shaking his head at his friend, Arthur tore the fabric from the twigs that had snared it and kicked his horse into motion. There would be hell to pay when Uther realised he was missing. It was precisely this reason that he had not told anyone except Guinevere where he was headed. His father didn't understand friendship, anyway.

His father didn't have a friend in the world.


	13. Chapter 13

Watching Merlin walk away from her, Morgana stood there speechless, oblivious to Mordred's insistent tugging on her arm. "Don't worry Morgana, he'll be back soon, trust me," he said, a dark look crossing his face. As he led the stunned and upset seer back into the tent, Merlin was nearing the entrance that he had crossed not an hour ago. He never thought he would be leaving so soon after arriving but Morgana had left him no choice.

_You knew this would happen,_ he reminded himself._ You knew that sooner or later, you would have to leave Morgana even if she _did _want to stay with these Druids, because that's your destiny_. But for all his pep talks, Merlin couldn't shake the feeling that in saving someone else, he was sacrificing another. There was no way that Morgana would still like him after he left her just to go and foil her plans.

A shadow appeared on the dirt path. Two cloaked Druids towered over him, each placing one hand on both his shoulders, stalling him. "Good day, Emrys," they said in unison.

Merlin was unsure of whether to attempt to push past them, but noted the muscles visible on their arms. He suspected they had rolled the sleeves up past the elbow for this purpose alone. They had magic in any case, so they had no need of brute force. "Hello." Merlin greeted them quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving now."

"Ah. But have you not just arrived? Surely you must stay the night with us, at least."

"No, sorry, I really have to be off," Merlin apologised and began making his way forward. The two Druids stayed in their place, blocking him. "You're in my way," he stated flatly, noting the extra urgency he felt. They were attempting to stop him from leaving because they thought he was a threat, or that he may alert the Pendragons. _Would_ _alert the Pendragons, _Merlin corrected himself. He didn't give a damn about Uther but he had to make sure Arthur had a future. Without Arthur to rule Camelot, it would fall to ruin and what would happen to the people then? What would happen to Gwen and Gaius?

"Please reconsider, Emrys. There is no need to be hasty." The Druids moved in by the smallest amount, but the tension between them increased noticeably.

"Don't worry about that. I've thought about it already, and I _really_ need to go. Don't know how they can manage without me back at Camelot," Merlin joked feebly, on his guard and ready in the event of a magical attack. He honestly didn't know what to do if more Druids tried to stop him. "Thanks for the hospitality though." Merlin shuffled past the Druids and as soon as he was a couple of feet ahead, he closed his eyes and broke into a run, fully expecting a voice to cry out and send more people after him, but then only thing that was making a sound was his own footsteps crunching dead leaves. He opened his eyes and realised that he was past the magical barrier; out of the camp. It was eerily silent, a complete change from the multitude of voices.

Merlin remembered Morgana's soft voice saying '_please stay with me_', the voice that nearly broke his resolve. He felt exhausted suddenly, and had to sit down. She had sided with the Druids and refused to listen to him when all he was trying to do was save her from herself, save her from assassinating a future king and _their friend_. It was déjà vu, the way he was saving people and getting punished for it! So why did he keep doing it? Why did he continuously put himself in incredibly dangerous situations for these people who didn't give him a word of thanks afterwards?

Weary, he hauled himself to his feet and spotted the horse that had brought them here. Merlin stroked the horse's mane and silently thanked whatever magic it had been that made it stay here.  
_

Arthur had been riding for what seemed like days, though it had only been a couple of hours. Time dragged by when he was by himself but that was the price he had to pay for locating his idiot of a manservant. The trees were so thick in this part of the forest; they tore at his skin and clothes, and already his bones ached from riding for so long. Arthur was used to this type of tiredness. He had been taught to ignore pain, and then taught this technique to his own knights. However, he found it was time to take a break.

Dismounting, Arthur led his horse to a tree and loosely tied a rope around a branch. It probably wouldn't stray anyway. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and was about to sit down when he heard a crunching sound: someone's boots treading on dead leaves. He peered around a tree truck and saw the silhouette of a figure, probably male judging by the shape, advancing towards him brandishing a large object. Arthur drew his sword as silently as he could, and the metal brushed softly against the hilt. He readied himself and became still, anticipating an attack from this unknown figure. As they drew nearer, Arthur began taking quick quiet steps so that in a matter of seconds, he was directly behind the unknown person. Deftly, he held his throat to the man's throat.

"Not again," groaned a familiar voice. Arthur moved the sword to his side and forcibly spun the person around.

"Merlin!" Arthur stared at his manservant, feeling relief and happiness blossom in his chest. Then he remembered why he had ended up here in the first place. "Merlin. You. Idiot!" Each word was punctuated with a punch in the shoulder. "Do you have any idea how bloody worried you made Guinevere? Not to mention my chambers are filthy. You're not getting another day off until you turn fifty. What possessed you to do something so stupid? Actually, don't worry, I completely understand. Because you _are_ stupid."

Merlin listened to his rant without interrupting, which confused him somewhat. "Hello? Merlin," he said, waving his hands in front of Merlin's face. "Did you even hear me? And what kind of damage were you going to inflict on me with this...twig?" he asked, pointing to the tree branch Merlin had picked up to defend himself.

"I didn't know it was going to be you! And Arthur, I _am_ sorry but it couldn't be helped. I did it to save Morgana."

Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Arthur thought he had heard Merlin wrong. He forced himself to say the words that were like dark shadows in the back of his thoughts. "Morgana is dead," he muttered.

"No. She's still alive. Do you remember the explosion and the smoke? I did it. I took her away to another place but it's all gone wrong!"

He closed his eyes, unable to process the information. If what Merlin was saying was true, then it meant a hundred different things, for all of them. _We haven't lost her, _he realised, _and my father has failed. _"You're lying," he accused Merlin. "Where is she now then?" Still, his mind could not stop celebrating. _Morgana's alive, Morgana's alive, Morgana's alive._

"That's the problem!" wailed Merlin. "I took her to a Druid camp because Mordred arrived and convinced us to come with him so that they could take down Uther but it turns out they don't just want to kill your father but-"

"Don't call him my father," Arthur interrupted harshly. "I disowned him the moment I found out he murdered my mother and was going to take Morgana away too. And who is Mordred?"

"Alright, 'the King' then. And Mordred is the Druid child that Morgana rescued a while ago. But yes, they don't just want to kill the King. They want to get rid of all the living Pendragons...meaning you. The Druids have a plan to return magic to Camelot by claiming the throne, and they are prepared to bring Camelot to its knees in order to get it."

"You left Morgana with these maniacs?" Arthur exclaimed incredulously.

Merlin flung his hands up to defend himself. "I didn't want to, but she wouldn't believe me when I told her that they were going to kill you too. So I left to warn you."

Running his hands through his hair, Arthur thought hard. "Alright. Fine. Where is this camp then? I'll go in and get to these Druids first."

"You can't. Only people with magic can get inside," Merlin said, resigned.

"How did you get in then?" Arthur asked. Merlin ducked his head and looked at the ground. "Oh, for Heaven's sake! You're not honestly telling me that you're some kind of sorcerer."

"Sorry, Arthur. Just don't hit me, Morgana slapped me when she found out."

Arthur turned around and went to find his horse, which had found it's way to Merlin's, gesturing to Merlin that he should follow. "I don't believe it. First you tell me that Morgana's alive, then you tell me that you have magic, next you're going to tell me that Gaius is a witch. Come on, we've got to get back to Camelot and prepare ourselves. Obviously the King will have both our heads if we tell him about this because you shouldn't have been in the Druid camp at all and he's gone completely mad, but we can still talk to the knights, be on the watch."

They rode for a while without speaking. Arthur had been told so much in the past few minutes that he could not even begin to comprehend. There was a plot in the works to assassinate him. That was always bad. There had been quite a few of those, but this one was exceptionally dangerous because Morgana, who had intimate knowledge about the inner workings of Camelot, was working against him, willing or not. Merlin's explanation implied that the Druids had lied to her to get her to work with them, but if it was a plot against the King, then he himself might have signed up. But he couldn't help but feel so relieved that she was alive. He had decided to put off mourning Morgana until he found Merlin, and he was thankful he would not have to grieve for someone who was practically a member of his family for a long time. And Merlin and Morgana had some kind of magic. After he had overcome the prejudices that his father had brainwashed him with, he found he was quite curious about it after all, and did not harbour any ill feeling for Merlin. After all, it would have been dangerous for Merlin to reveal his secret for anyone.

_I can't believe I'm taking this so rationally. The world is coming to an end, honestly._

"Merlin, can I ask you a question about- about magic?"

Warily Merlin answered. "What do you want to know?"

"What's it like? What is it? How did you get it?"

"I was born with it. I suppose I've had it all my life. You remember by old best mate Will? He wasn't the sorcerer that time, he was just covering for me. He knew me when I was young and was discovering my magic, but he did think of it in the same way people in Camelot think about it. Will thought it was great. The first time I met Gaius, I saved his life using magic. I've saved your behind heaps of times though I never got any credit for it," Merlin grinned.

"Urgh. Well don't think you're getting a 'thank you' now," Arthur teased. As confusing as everything as getting, he was slipping into the same easy banter he and Merlin did before everyone around him seemed to go insane. "But I'm curious. Tell me exactly how you saved my life."

"I was going to spare you, but since you asked..."

For the remainder of their journey, Arthur let Merlin distract him with tales of enchantresses, spirits raised from the dead and vengeful sorcerers all out to get their revenge on the Pendragon family. _The King has made many enemies in his life_, Arthur observed. _I will learn from his mistakes when I ascend the throne. _

As Merlin was regaling him with a recount of what Arthur got up to with a woman called Sophia who apparently enchanted him so she and her father could sacrifice him to gain passage to a place called Avalon, a deafening crash thundered in their ears. Something roared loudly and they were both forced to stuff their fingers into their ears, hoping their eardrums wouldn't rupture. Arthur watched Merlin's lips move and his eyes glowed an inhuman gold colour. Then, there was total silence, though the trees and earth below their feet still trembled. "Did you use your magic?" asked Arthur. Merlin nodded. "That's useful. No wonder you're so pathetic with a sword. You don't need any weapons."

"Yeah, but having magic means there's a whole new breed of madmen –or women –who want to hurt or use you. I once had a flying axe hurled at me –"

Arthur shook his head. "You can tell me later. But what _was _that?" Seconds later, his eyebrows shot up in shock. "Guinevere's still in Camelot! Whatever it was, I _mustn't _have hurt her."

Pointing towards the sky, Merlin answered his question. Above them, a majestic and terrible creature with rippling gold scales and enormous wings sailed overhead, still roaring with what appeared to be anger. It howled and released bursts of flame into the air but kept its head in the clouds, avoiding the vegetation. Its beauty was marred by the iron grey chains that were broken but still attached to its powerful legs. Arthur was almost certain of what the creature was, though he had never before encountered anything as terrifying as it. The creature was heading in the same direction from which he and Merlin had just come.

"The Great Dragon," Merlin murmured, watching it.

"You know what it is?" Arthur asked incredulously.

"I've actually spoken with him. He occasionally gave me advice. He told me what my destiny is. But we're in serious trouble now."

"_What now?_"

"I think the Druids have freed the Dragon."


	14. Chapter 14

Cybrán surveyed the parchment spread on the table, satisfaction spreading across his face. He couldn't believe how easy it had been, once Morgana had aligned herself against Uther, to follow her and Emrys and bring them to their camp. Surprisingly, Emrys had taken the initiative and saved the seer himself. The Druids had been prepared to intervene but they had not needed to, once Morgana was safely away. The plan was going smoothly, and he eased himself into a wooden chair, preparing himself for an audience with two very unfortunate people.

Soon enough, they were hauled inside by Cybrán's personal guard. He had learned early on that such things were necessary when you assumed a post of leadership: the higher your position, the more people who wanted to kill you and knock you from your place. Greed was a good motivator, and he was been very motivated as he had worked his way towards the top. "Well, well. What have we here?"

It was a member of his guard who spoke for the two. "Eurig and Braith, Master. They were discovered to be the reason Emrys realised our plan and departed from here," he answered, bowing his head submissively. Eurig did not speak a word in his defence while Braith tossed back her white tresses and glared furiously at Cybrán.

"You would surely not be so foolish as to think that we revealed the plan on purpose? Emrys was obviously eavesdropping, though not magically. I am vigilant enough to guard our secret that I perform checks for such spells!"

Cybrán smiled at her condescendingly as he would to a child trying to make excuses. "So," he began in his signature smooth tone. Eurig winced. Everyone knew that when Cybrán began talking in such a manner that there was going to be something awful in store for the parties involved. Unluckily, this time it was him. And Braith, the old gossip who could not keep her mouth shut –she had landed him in this mess! "You are how many years old now, Braith? I would say it has been long over a century since you were the same age as young Eurig here. And somehow, with all your years of wisdom, you were outsmarted by Emrys, who powerful as he may be, was _not_ using magic at the time. You have confirmed my suspicions."

"What suspicions?" hissed the old woman.

"That you have clearly lost your touch," said Cybrán nonchalantly. "I would be better off with some common peasant. At least they still have the ability to think straight."

Braith swelled with fury. "Lost my touch, have I?" she cackled, as her lips moved quickly and she summoned a ball of pure energy, that crackled and pulsed. Cybrán's guard restrained her but she released the energy towards Cybrán. In an almost bored manner, he stopped in and reversed its direction so that it struck Braith in the chest. She doubled over, hacking and coughing and then slumped to the ground. The guard held her up and she slowly raised her head with fearful eyes. Cybrán smirked.

"Like I said. Your magic nothing to me now. Do not think that because you are older than you have more wisdom. I have learned secrets from the Old Religion, things about magic that you can only dream of. True, I cannot perform a vast quantity of it yet, but I grow nearer to the power that the ancient priests and priestesses once bore. You should fear me, Braith. Especially now, as I am the one determining your fate for this act of betrayal."

Casting his eyes towards Eurig, Cybrán snapped his fingers and the guard released him. "You were prudent enough to hold your tongue, Eurig. I will show you an act of mercy and release you without punishment. Be sure that we do not meet again in a matter like this." Eurig nodded gratefully and escaped the tent without a second glance and Braith who stared after him jealously. "As for you, my foolish friend. Because you were not wise and challenged me, I must punish you as I see fit." Watching her eyes widen, frightened, he laughed mockingly.

"Fear not, I'm not about to execute you. No, nothing so rash. In fact I will allow _you _to decide your fate. Here are your two options: one, you leave this camp, never to communicate or be seen by another Druid again, or two, I demote you to the lowest ranks. You will never have an important position when we take over Camelot and history shall never remember your name...but you will still be welcomed by us. What do you choose?"

"I'll stay," Braith muttered. "You leave me no choice. Where else do I have to go?"

"Excellent, excellent." Cybrán clapped his hands together then extended one towards Braith. "_Sálnes!_" he cried. Braith immediately flinched and braced herself but felt nothing except a strange tightening sensation around her throat. The feeling subsided and she opened her mouth to ask what he had done to her but nothing came out except air. "Your voice got us into this mess, so I removed it. The punishment fits the crime, doesn't it?"

As Cybrán raised himself from the chair, he saw that Braith was still standing there dumbfounded. "Come now, it was better than having to cut out your tongue. That would have been rather crude," he jeered as he left the room. He paused before the door and said, "And now we can be sure that this will never happen again, won't we?" With a conspiratorial wink, he left her there, completely silent for the first time in her life.

This was why half the Druids secretly hated him; because he was so cunning. He did not like to execute anyone, taking the life of another magical being was wrong somehow. Though there were circumstances in which it was necessary, Cybrán preferred not to have quite so much blood on his hands. It was detrimental to the appearance he tried to project to everyone else, as they needed to trust him so that they would do exactly what he wanted them to. He wanted them to believe he was kind and just, as it was so much easier to manipulate someone who thought you were a decent being. _Braith needn't have suffered if didn't believe it was _necessary_ to attack me. But relieving her of her irksome voice was a stroke of genius. Let it serve as a reminder to those who use their own voices against me._

Eurig materialised before him, jerking him out of his thoughts by grabbing hold of his arm. He bowed low and said in a rushed voice, "May I have permission to speak?"

"Eurig. I did not think I would be seeing you again so soon. This must be important," he said with a warning in his tone. If this boy he had just interrupted his thought processes for nothing after he just let him off, there would be a price to pay.

"The Dragon!" cried Eurig. "We have been successful in releasing the Great Dragon."

"Excellent!" Cybrán exclaimed. "Assemble a party to welcome him."

_And soon after, we will join forces and rain sorrow upon Camelot._  
_

Morgana sat inside a tent she had been given all to herself. It was a blessing not to have to answer so many questions about the place she used to call home. More than once she had thought of the memories she had created in a particular room she had been asked to describe and then her voice would trail off as nostalgia claimed her. It was harder than she expected, realising that while Uther lived, she could not go back there. She had faith in the Druids, but ever since Merlin had left, there was a sense of unease plaguing her; whether it had something to do with what Merlin had said or with his absence, she did not know. She had long gotten over the fact that he had concealed a significant part of himself from her. What would she have done in his place?

And now her thoughts turned to Merlin again. Morgana started into the mirror, which reflected the entrance of her tent as well as her face and wished that he would walk through it. Merlin was a part of her home, a part of Camelot and since he had saved her, he had given her a future. She wanted him to be a part of it. Morgana felt as though they had a bond that transcended what was tangible. Their bond was built from magic, and now she was discovering what a beautiful thing magic could be. It didn't have to be hideous nightmares every time she went to sleep, waking up screaming.

Running a wooden comb through her brown tresses, Morgana thought of Gwen. Her best friend had to be suffering. Her hatred for Uther, which was always simmering, was brought boiling point as she thought of how _alone_ her maid must be feeling. It was his fault that she could not return and comfort her, especially since she had no family left in the world.

"May I enter, Seer?" a child's voice called from outside her tent.

"You may," she replied, turning around to face the messenger. She had noticed that the children here all had some kind of role, as the Druid's numbers had greatly been diminished by the Great Purge. There were still many in hiding.

"Master Cybrán wished you to be a part of the party to meet the Great Dragon upon his arrival," the girl said solemnly, keeping her startlingly blue eyes respectfully cast to the ground.

Morgana was confused. "The Great...Dragon?"

The girl looked up with surprise. "Yes. The Great Dragon has been wrongfully imprisoned in the deepest dungeons of Camelot by Uther Pendragon for near two decades. We have finally succeeded in releasing him."

"If there was a dragon in Camelot, why is it that you have not released him sooner?" Morgana asked sceptically.

"We have been searching for the correct weapon with which to release him for a long time. It is not something that can be found anywhere. My people have been questing for this legendary sword that can break the shackles that imprison the Dragon for many years. And now he is free, and we must persuade him to join us. It shall not be too difficult; the hatred he bears the King must be great. Almost as great as yours, Seer," the girl smirked and curtsied, then left. A chill ran down Morgana's spine as she thought about how _different_ these children were to the laughing, playing, smiling children of Camelot. Their knowledge was better but it made them lose their childlike innocence.

_Speaking of knowledge, I cannot believe there was a Dragon in Camelot and no one knew. Except perhaps Merlin? Was this something else he neglected to tell me? But it's not important, though I'm horrified that something so amazing was kept locked away for twenty years and still has not killed Uther. Were I him, I would have exacted my vengeance immediately. _

With these dark, brooding thoughts in her mind, Morgana exited her tent and walked towards the front of the camp. Other Druids were hurrying in the opposite direction. She guessed that they were afraid of the Dragon. Ahead of her, Morgana could see Mordred walking confidently, unafraid. He was such a sweet boy, and she couldn't help but wonder what he had been told to make him grow up before he should have. Boys his age still played pretend-games where they were knights, or soldiers or other mythical beings. Mordred had had to assume a role beyond his years because of his power.

_I grew up before my age too. My magic made me see things, live things, that no child should have had to cope with. _

Morgana felt a rush of sympathy for Mordred and was about to run forward to walk with him but he turned around and flashed his blue eyes at her. They were almost the same as the other girl's, only his colour was more vivid. Mordred continued walking, but Morgana was left standing there staring after him. The more she thought about his dark, knowing eyes, the more he reminded Morgana of herself.

And for some reason, that thought left her breathless with fear for both of them.


	15. Chapter 15

The King sat at a long mahogany table with his advisors. Gaius stood at the entrance of the room, his face completely blank. To others, he would have appeared uninterested, especially considering the recent turn of events. However, Gaius was masking the fact that his list of problems seemed to be growing by the minute. He was barely listening to the speculation of the advisors, who were only at the point of discussing what had just happened, which was incredibly obvious: the Great Dragon had been released. _He_ was considering the possible ramifications of this.

A powerful and ancient creature of the Old Religion who Uther had imprisoned for many years had just been set loose. There were going to be serious consequences for the people of Camelot. It was not a question of _if _the dragon would return to have his vengeance but when. And he would not just be satisfied with destroying Uther; he would destroy Uther's kingdom too. Gaius' dislike for Uther was standing in the way of possibly saving the people of Camelot. He needed to forget his anger for a moment and inform them all of the danger at hand.

Gaius cleared his throat. "My Lord."

Uther looked at Gaius, his face struggling to remain calm. Gaius felt a twinge of satisfaction. It was time that the King learned that his unjust actions could not go unpunished. "I believe that if you inform your advisors of what transpired twenty years ago then with that knowledge in our heads, we could go about creating a solution."

"A solution?" Uther said with contempt in his voice. "There is no need of one. What is the problem?" He dared Gaius to reveal what he knew with his eyes.

"My Lord, you should know that whoever aided the dragon may use this knowledge against Camelot." Gaius let this warning hang in the air, as the advisors turned towards the King, their faces painfully curious. They were intrigued as anyone was when there was the possibility of hearing about someone's skeletons in their closet, especially when that someone was meant to be far superior. "I know one as wise as you would not allow this to remain a secret much longer when the lives of your people are at stake." He chose his words carefully to trap Uther.

Uther pursed his mouth and grimaced. "Of course, Gaius," he said, giving his physician a look that would have had anyone else fleeing the room. The King cleared his throat. "Twenty years ago, during a time of the Great Purge, Camelot was a poisonous mess. It was teeming with sorcerers, witches and _seers_." He spat the last word. "There was also many strange and frightening creatures, the likes of which none of you will probably encounter in your lives. One of these vile creatures was a dragon. During the Great Purge, I had a Dragon Lord at my disposal, and I had him bring me it. I locked it away as a message to other magical beings who were thinking of entering Camelot: that they too would meet the same fate. Or worse."

One of Uther's advisors, a thin man with small black eyes and a lengthy beard, stuttered, "Is this the s-same dragon, Sire?" He turned pale with fright. "Then, if I may be so bold as to say...won't it come after Camelot for revenge?"

Gaius rolled his eyes as he listened to the King spin some tale about how there was 'no need for panic', when he heard the squeak of the door opening. A hand tugged on his robe and then disappeared. Gaius excused himself and quickly left the room. Outside in the corridor, he caught sight of another door closing and entered that room. "Merlin!" he exclaimed, as he saw the person who belonged to the hand. "What stupid things have you done in your absence?"

Surprisingly, it was Arthur who answered. "You should be a little more grateful to him, Gaius. After all, he did save Morgana's life."

"Morgana is alive?"

Arthur began drawing the curtains across the windows. "Yes." To Merlin, he said, "Could you lock the doors?"

His heart nearly stopped when he heard the locks snap shut as Merlin closed the doors with magic. Obviously the Prince had seen everything! Gaius gaped at Merlin, but he wasn't even paying attention, as he went to help Arthur draw the curtains. When the task was finished, they both turned to face Gaius. Merlin seemed bemused, of all things and he was horrified to see how lightly his apprentice was taking the fact that he had just _revealed his secret_. Merlin grinned his usual irritating smile at him, and Gaius felt very much out of the loop.

"Don't worry, Gaius. Arthur knows," Merlin said reassuringly.

"Arthur knows!" Gaius repeated, completely appalled.

"I couldn't keep it a secret anymore. I had to tell him so we can save Morgana from the Druids."

"Save Morgana from the Druids!"

"And Camelot's in danger, now that the Dragon will probably join them."

"The Dragon will join-" Gaius realised what he was doing and took a deep breath. _I shouldn't have to deal with this at my age_, he thought to himself. "You have a minute to tell me everything, Merlin."

He sat down at the table while Merlin told him the whole story, beginning with the day he had disappeared to the events that had happened minutes ago. All that Merlin explained would have sounded far-fetched but the problem was, everything fit into place, even taking into account Morgana's supposed death and Merlin's disappearance. Arthur began to corroborate his manservant's story. "That was why I had to leave. Because Guinevere and I were searching for Merlin, and when we couldn't find him in Camelot, I decided to search for him elsewhere." A strange look came into Arthur's eyes. "Excuse me for a moment."

Arthur unlocked the latch and swiftly slid out the door. Gaius looked at Merlin questioningly, and Merlin shrugged back and frowned. "How did Uther come capture the Dragon in the first place? I mean, I can't believe I never thought to ask. Would he really destroy Camelot just to get revenge on one man?"

"Dragons are vicious creatures when angered, Merlin. Quite like men, really. Our logic is overpowered by our wrath and we often do cruel and destructive things. A dragon is no different, except they have an increased capability to destroy things," Gaius said solemnly, falling back into a familiar style of conversation with Merlin. Merlin frequently performed feats of magic that amazed him, but the next day, Gaius would remember how little the young warlock actually knew. "If what you say is true, then I fear we are all doomed. Camelot's army can never match the combined might of a dragon and a race of people with magic in their blood."

It was no accident that he had neglected to answer Merlin's first question, of how the Great Dragon was imprisoned in Camelot. He felt that now was not the time, with tensions running high, to inform Merlin about how his father was the one responsible for capturing the dragon, because he didn't want to have his apprentice searching for Balinor. For all Gaius knew, Balinor could be dead. He couldn't give Merlin that false hope.  
_

Arthur found Gwen clearing away the dust that was beginning to form on Morgana's possessions in her mistress' chamber. No one had entered since the day of Morgana's execution, not wanting to risk offending the King. Uther had not even bothered to claim her more valuable items, dismissing them as 'tainted'. The same day the King had said that, he had found Gwen weeping quietly on Morgana's bed, cradling a locket she had given her. Today, he rushed up to her and grabbed her hand. Gwen tugged away, surprised, but Arthur held fast. "Arthur, what are you, I mean-" she stammered. He had such an intense look in his eyes, something so joyful in them that she couldn't remember having seen that look in her life. Though it could have been because the last time she had seen him was so desolate and grim.

"I've got good news. Great news."

"You found Merlin?" she gasped and stopped trying to pull away, instead holding his hands tighter.

"I can do one better. Not only did I find Merlin, I found someone else?"

Confusion creased Gwen's brow. The only other person she knew that she had not spoken to or seen for a long while was Lancelot. Just thinking of him made her blush, but not with love but embarrassment that she had fostered affection for him for such a long time. On his travels he had probably happened upon a girl far prettier than herself and now they were most likely courting each other, if not wed. "Who?" she asked.

"Morgana," Arthur said, and smiled so beautifully she immediately accepted it as true, even though the logical, rational part of her replayed the scene of Morgana's execution. But those memories didn't match the smile on Arthur's face, and he would never lie to her about someone who meant the whole world to her. In a way, so many of the aspects of her life had been built around Morgana.

"What?" That was all she managed to say when she had stopped reeling. "Morgana's alive. I promise you Guinevere, I am telling the truth. See, Merlin saved her somehow and then they ran off, but I found him and they're _both alive_, but she's with some Druids..." Arthur stopped rambling as he watched her face. "We're still in some trouble, because they're coming to Camelot to attack us, but I know we can-" He was cut off by what happened next.

Gwen felt the misery that had been sinking over her ever since Uther had imprisoned Morgana lift off her with every word that Arthur said. True, Merlin had saved her best friend but Arthur had saved _her_. He had comforted her during her worst time and she wasn't at all sure that without Morgana she would have had a reason to do anything. Arthur had saved her, and so, he was her hero standing before her smiling triumphantly. And he was holding her hands, looking at her like she was some beautiful heroine in one of the books Morgana owned, not just a simple maid.

Completely sure of herself and what she was doing, she let go of his hands, flung her arms around his neck and on tiptoe, she kissed him.


End file.
